diff options
Diffstat (limited to '791.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 791.txt | 3997 |
1 files changed, 3997 insertions, 0 deletions
@@ -0,0 +1,3997 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Princess, by Alfred Lord Tennyson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Princess + +Author: Alfred Lord Tennyson + +Posting Date: August 2, 2008 [EBook #791] +Release Date: January, 1997 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCESS *** + + + + +Produced by ddNg E-Ching + + + + + +THE PRINCESS + +by Alfred Lord Tennyson + + + + +PROLOGUE + + + Sir Walter Vivian all a summer's day + Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun + Up to the people: thither flocked at noon + His tenants, wife and child, and thither half + The neighbouring borough with their Institute + Of which he was the patron. I was there + From college, visiting the son,--the son + A Walter too,--with others of our set, + Five others: we were seven at Vivian-place. + + And me that morning Walter showed the house, + Greek, set with busts: from vases in the hall + Flowers of all heavens, and lovelier than their names, + Grew side by side; and on the pavement lay + Carved stones of the Abbey-ruin in the park, + Huge Ammonites, and the first bones of Time; + And on the tables every clime and age + Jumbled together; celts and calumets, + Claymore and snowshoe, toys in lava, fans + Of sandal, amber, ancient rosaries, + Laborious orient ivory sphere in sphere, + The cursed Malayan crease, and battle-clubs + From the isles of palm: and higher on the walls, + Betwixt the monstrous horns of elk and deer, + His own forefathers' arms and armour hung. + + And 'this' he said 'was Hugh's at Agincourt; + And that was old Sir Ralph's at Ascalon: + A good knight he! we keep a chronicle + With all about him'--which he brought, and I + Dived in a hoard of tales that dealt with knights, + Half-legend, half-historic, counts and kings + Who laid about them at their wills and died; + And mixt with these, a lady, one that armed + Her own fair head, and sallying through the gate, + Had beat her foes with slaughter from her walls. + + 'O miracle of women,' said the book, + 'O noble heart who, being strait-besieged + By this wild king to force her to his wish, + Nor bent, nor broke, nor shunned a soldier's death, + But now when all was lost or seemed as lost-- + Her stature more than mortal in the burst + Of sunrise, her arm lifted, eyes on fire-- + Brake with a blast of trumpets from the gate, + And, falling on them like a thunderbolt, + She trampled some beneath her horses' heels, + And some were whelmed with missiles of the wall, + And some were pushed with lances from the rock, + And part were drowned within the whirling brook: + O miracle of noble womanhood!' + + So sang the gallant glorious chronicle; + And, I all rapt in this, 'Come out,' he said, + 'To the Abbey: there is Aunt Elizabeth + And sister Lilia with the rest.' We went + (I kept the book and had my finger in it) + Down through the park: strange was the sight to me; + For all the sloping pasture murmured, sown + With happy faces and with holiday. + There moved the multitude, a thousand heads: + The patient leaders of their Institute + Taught them with facts. One reared a font of stone + And drew, from butts of water on the slope, + The fountain of the moment, playing, now + A twisted snake, and now a rain of pearls, + Or steep-up spout whereon the gilded ball + Danced like a wisp: and somewhat lower down + A man with knobs and wires and vials fired + A cannon: Echo answered in her sleep + From hollow fields: and here were telescopes + For azure views; and there a group of girls + In circle waited, whom the electric shock + Dislinked with shrieks and laughter: round the lake + A little clock-work steamer paddling plied + And shook the lilies: perched about the knolls + A dozen angry models jetted steam: + A petty railway ran: a fire-balloon + Rose gem-like up before the dusky groves + And dropt a fairy parachute and past: + And there through twenty posts of telegraph + They flashed a saucy message to and fro + Between the mimic stations; so that sport + Went hand in hand with Science; otherwhere + Pure sport; a herd of boys with clamour bowled + And stumped the wicket; babies rolled about + Like tumbled fruit in grass; and men and maids + Arranged a country dance, and flew through light + And shadow, while the twangling violin + Struck up with Soldier-laddie, and overhead + The broad ambrosial aisles of lofty lime + Made noise with bees and breeze from end to end. + + Strange was the sight and smacking of the time; + And long we gazed, but satiated at length + Came to the ruins. High-arched and ivy-claspt, + Of finest Gothic lighter than a fire, + Through one wide chasm of time and frost they gave + The park, the crowd, the house; but all within + The sward was trim as any garden lawn: + And here we lit on Aunt Elizabeth, + And Lilia with the rest, and lady friends + From neighbour seats: and there was Ralph himself, + A broken statue propt against the wall, + As gay as any. Lilia, wild with sport, + Half child half woman as she was, had wound + A scarf of orange round the stony helm, + And robed the shoulders in a rosy silk, + That made the old warrior from his ivied nook + Glow like a sunbeam: near his tomb a feast + Shone, silver-set; about it lay the guests, + And there we joined them: then the maiden Aunt + Took this fair day for text, and from it preached + An universal culture for the crowd, + And all things great; but we, unworthier, told + Of college: he had climbed across the spikes, + And he had squeezed himself betwixt the bars, + And he had breathed the Proctor's dogs; and one + Discussed his tutor, rough to common men, + But honeying at the whisper of a lord; + And one the Master, as a rogue in grain + Veneered with sanctimonious theory. + But while they talked, above their heads I saw + The feudal warrior lady-clad; which brought + My book to mind: and opening this I read + Of old Sir Ralph a page or two that rang + With tilt and tourney; then the tale of her + That drove her foes with slaughter from her walls, + And much I praised her nobleness, and 'Where,' + Asked Walter, patting Lilia's head (she lay + Beside him) 'lives there such a woman now?' + + Quick answered Lilia 'There are thousands now + Such women, but convention beats them down: + It is but bringing up; no more than that: + You men have done it: how I hate you all! + Ah, were I something great! I wish I were + Some might poetess, I would shame you then, + That love to keep us children! O I wish + That I were some great princess, I would build + Far off from men a college like a man's, + And I would teach them all that men are taught; + We are twice as quick!' And here she shook aside + The hand that played the patron with her curls. + + And one said smiling 'Pretty were the sight + If our old halls could change their sex, and flaunt + With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans, + And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair. + I think they should not wear our rusty gowns, + But move as rich as Emperor-moths, or Ralph + Who shines so in the corner; yet I fear, + If there were many Lilias in the brood, + However deep you might embower the nest, + Some boy would spy it.' + At this upon the sward + She tapt her tiny silken-sandaled foot: + 'That's your light way; but I would make it death + For any male thing but to peep at us.' + + Petulant she spoke, and at herself she laughed; + A rosebud set with little wilful thorns, + And sweet as English air could make her, she: + But Walter hailed a score of names upon her, + And 'petty Ogress', and 'ungrateful Puss', + And swore he longed at college, only longed, + All else was well, for she-society. + They boated and they cricketed; they talked + At wine, in clubs, of art, of politics; + They lost their weeks; they vext the souls of deans; + They rode; they betted; made a hundred friends, + And caught the blossom of the flying terms, + But missed the mignonette of Vivian-place, + The little hearth-flower Lilia. Thus he spoke, + Part banter, part affection. + 'True,' she said, + 'We doubt not that. O yes, you missed us much. + I'll stake my ruby ring upon it you did.' + + She held it out; and as a parrot turns + Up through gilt wires a crafty loving eye, + And takes a lady's finger with all care, + And bites it for true heart and not for harm, + So he with Lilia's. Daintily she shrieked + And wrung it. 'Doubt my word again!' he said. + 'Come, listen! here is proof that you were missed: + We seven stayed at Christmas up to read; + And there we took one tutor as to read: + The hard-grained Muses of the cube and square + Were out of season: never man, I think, + So mouldered in a sinecure as he: + For while our cloisters echoed frosty feet, + And our long walks were stript as bare as brooms, + We did but talk you over, pledge you all + In wassail; often, like as many girls-- + Sick for the hollies and the yews of home-- + As many little trifling Lilias--played + Charades and riddles as at Christmas here, + And _what's my thought_ and _when_ and _where_ and _how_, + As here at Christmas.' + She remembered that: + A pleasant game, she thought: she liked it more + Than magic music, forfeits, all the rest. + But these--what kind of tales did men tell men, + She wondered, by themselves? + A half-disdain + Perched on the pouted blossom of her lips: + And Walter nodded at me; '_He_ began, + The rest would follow, each in turn; and so + We forged a sevenfold story. Kind? what kind? + Chimeras, crotchets, Christmas solecisms, + Seven-headed monsters only made to kill + Time by the fire in winter.' + 'Kill him now, + The tyrant! kill him in the summer too,' + Said Lilia; 'Why not now?' the maiden Aunt. + 'Why not a summer's as a winter's tale? + A tale for summer as befits the time, + And something it should be to suit the place, + Heroic, for a hero lies beneath, + Grave, solemn!' + Walter warped his mouth at this + To something so mock-solemn, that I laughed + And Lilia woke with sudden-thrilling mirth + An echo like a ghostly woodpecker, + Hid in the ruins; till the maiden Aunt + (A little sense of wrong had touched her face + With colour) turned to me with 'As you will; + Heroic if you will, or what you will, + Or be yourself you hero if you will.' + + 'Take Lilia, then, for heroine' clamoured he, + 'And make her some great Princess, six feet high, + Grand, epic, homicidal; and be you + The Prince to win her!' + 'Then follow me, the Prince,' + I answered, 'each be hero in his turn! + Seven and yet one, like shadows in a dream.-- + Heroic seems our Princess as required-- + But something made to suit with Time and place, + A Gothic ruin and a Grecian house, + A talk of college and of ladies' rights, + A feudal knight in silken masquerade, + And, yonder, shrieks and strange experiments + For which the good Sir Ralph had burnt them all-- + This _were_ a medley! we should have him back + Who told the "Winter's tale" to do it for us. + No matter: we will say whatever comes. + And let the ladies sing us, if they will, + From time to time, some ballad or a song + To give us breathing-space.' + So I began, + And the rest followed: and the women sang + Between the rougher voices of the men, + Like linnets in the pauses of the wind: + And here I give the story and the songs. + + + + +I + + + + A prince I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face, + Of temper amorous, as the first of May, + With lengths of yellow ringlet, like a girl, + For on my cradle shone the Northern star. + + There lived an ancient legend in our house. + Some sorcerer, whom a far-off grandsire burnt + Because he cast no shadow, had foretold, + Dying, that none of all our blood should know + The shadow from the substance, and that one + Should come to fight with shadows and to fall. + For so, my mother said, the story ran. + And, truly, waking dreams were, more or less, + An old and strange affection of the house. + Myself too had weird seizures, Heaven knows what: + On a sudden in the midst of men and day, + And while I walked and talked as heretofore, + I seemed to move among a world of ghosts, + And feel myself the shadow of a dream. + Our great court-Galen poised his gilt-head cane, + And pawed his beard, and muttered 'catalepsy'. + My mother pitying made a thousand prayers; + My mother was as mild as any saint, + Half-canonized by all that looked on her, + So gracious was her tact and tenderness: + But my good father thought a king a king; + He cared not for the affection of the house; + He held his sceptre like a pedant's wand + To lash offence, and with long arms and hands + Reached out, and picked offenders from the mass + For judgment. + Now it chanced that I had been, + While life was yet in bud and blade, bethrothed + To one, a neighbouring Princess: she to me + Was proxy-wedded with a bootless calf + At eight years old; and still from time to time + Came murmurs of her beauty from the South, + And of her brethren, youths of puissance; + And still I wore her picture by my heart, + And one dark tress; and all around them both + Sweet thoughts would swarm as bees about their queen. + + But when the days drew nigh that I should wed, + My father sent ambassadors with furs + And jewels, gifts, to fetch her: these brought back + A present, a great labour of the loom; + And therewithal an answer vague as wind: + Besides, they saw the king; he took the gifts; + He said there was a compact; that was true: + But then she had a will; was he to blame? + And maiden fancies; loved to live alone + Among her women; certain, would not wed. + + That morning in the presence room I stood + With Cyril and with Florian, my two friends: + The first, a gentleman of broken means + (His father's fault) but given to starts and bursts + Of revel; and the last, my other heart, + And almost my half-self, for still we moved + Together, twinned as horse's ear and eye. + + Now, while they spake, I saw my father's face + Grow long and troubled like a rising moon, + Inflamed with wrath: he started on his feet, + Tore the king's letter, snowed it down, and rent + The wonder of the loom through warp and woof + From skirt to skirt; and at the last he sware + That he would send a hundred thousand men, + And bring her in a whirlwind: then he chewed + The thrice-turned cud of wrath, and cooked his spleen, + Communing with his captains of the war. + + At last I spoke. 'My father, let me go. + It cannot be but some gross error lies + In this report, this answer of a king, + Whom all men rate as kind and hospitable: + Or, maybe, I myself, my bride once seen, + Whate'er my grief to find her less than fame, + May rue the bargain made.' And Florian said: + 'I have a sister at the foreign court, + Who moves about the Princess; she, you know, + Who wedded with a nobleman from thence: + He, dying lately, left her, as I hear, + The lady of three castles in that land: + Through her this matter might be sifted clean.' + And Cyril whispered: 'Take me with you too.' + Then laughing 'what, if these weird seizures come + Upon you in those lands, and no one near + To point you out the shadow from the truth! + Take me: I'll serve you better in a strait; + I grate on rusty hinges here:' but 'No!' + Roared the rough king, 'you shall not; we ourself + Will crush her pretty maiden fancies dead + In iron gauntlets: break the council up.' + + But when the council broke, I rose and past + Through the wild woods that hung about the town; + Found a still place, and plucked her likeness out; + Laid it on flowers, and watched it lying bathed + In the green gleam of dewy-tasselled trees: + What were those fancies? wherefore break her troth? + Proud looked the lips: but while I meditated + A wind arose and rushed upon the South, + And shook the songs, the whispers, and the shrieks + Of the wild woods together; and a Voice + Went with it, 'Follow, follow, thou shalt win.' + + Then, ere the silver sickle of that month + Became her golden shield, I stole from court + With Cyril and with Florian, unperceived, + Cat-footed through the town and half in dread + To hear my father's clamour at our backs + With Ho! from some bay-window shake the night; + But all was quiet: from the bastioned walls + Like threaded spiders, one by one, we dropt, + And flying reached the frontier: then we crost + To a livelier land; and so by tilth and grange, + And vines, and blowing bosks of wilderness, + We gained the mother city thick with towers, + And in the imperial palace found the king. + + His name was Gama; cracked and small his voice, + But bland the smile that like a wrinkling wind + On glassy water drove his cheek in lines; + A little dry old man, without a star, + Not like a king: three days he feasted us, + And on the fourth I spake of why we came, + And my bethrothed. 'You do us, Prince,' he said, + Airing a snowy hand and signet gem, + 'All honour. We remember love ourselves + In our sweet youth: there did a compact pass + Long summers back, a kind of ceremony-- + I think the year in which our olives failed. + I would you had her, Prince, with all my heart, + With my full heart: but there were widows here, + Two widows, Lady Psyche, Lady Blanche; + They fed her theories, in and out of place + Maintaining that with equal husbandry + The woman were an equal to the man. + They harped on this; with this our banquets rang; + Our dances broke and buzzed in knots of talk; + Nothing but this; my very ears were hot + To hear them: knowledge, so my daughter held, + Was all in all: they had but been, she thought, + As children; they must lose the child, assume + The woman: then, Sir, awful odes she wrote, + Too awful, sure, for what they treated of, + But all she is and does is awful; odes + About this losing of the child; and rhymes + And dismal lyrics, prophesying change + Beyond all reason: these the women sang; + And they that know such things--I sought but peace; + No critic I--would call them masterpieces: + They mastered _me_. At last she begged a boon, + A certain summer-palace which I have + Hard by your father's frontier: I said no, + Yet being an easy man, gave it: and there, + All wild to found an University + For maidens, on the spur she fled; and more + We know not,--only this: they see no men, + Not even her brother Arac, nor the twins + Her brethren, though they love her, look upon her + As on a kind of paragon; and I + (Pardon me saying it) were much loth to breed + Dispute betwixt myself and mine: but since + (And I confess with right) you think me bound + In some sort, I can give you letters to her; + And yet, to speak the truth, I rate your chance + Almost at naked nothing.' + Thus the king; + And I, though nettled that he seemed to slur + With garrulous ease and oily courtesies + Our formal compact, yet, not less (all frets + But chafing me on fire to find my bride) + Went forth again with both my friends. We rode + Many a long league back to the North. At last + From hills, that looked across a land of hope, + We dropt with evening on a rustic town + Set in a gleaming river's crescent-curve, + Close at the boundary of the liberties; + There, entered an old hostel, called mine host + To council, plied him with his richest wines, + And showed the late-writ letters of the king. + + He with a long low sibilation, stared + As blank as death in marble; then exclaimed + Averring it was clear against all rules + For any man to go: but as his brain + Began to mellow, 'If the king,' he said, + 'Had given us letters, was he bound to speak? + The king would bear him out;' and at the last-- + The summer of the vine in all his veins-- + 'No doubt that we might make it worth his while. + She once had past that way; he heard her speak; + She scared him; life! he never saw the like; + She looked as grand as doomsday and as grave: + And he, he reverenced his liege-lady there; + He always made a point to post with mares; + His daughter and his housemaid were the boys: + The land, he understood, for miles about + Was tilled by women; all the swine were sows, + And all the dogs'-- + But while he jested thus, + A thought flashed through me which I clothed in act, + Remembering how we three presented Maid + Or Nymph, or Goddess, at high tide of feast, + In masque or pageant at my father's court. + We sent mine host to purchase female gear; + He brought it, and himself, a sight to shake + The midriff of despair with laughter, holp + To lace us up, till, each, in maiden plumes + We rustled: him we gave a costly bribe + To guerdon silence, mounted our good steeds, + And boldly ventured on the liberties. + + We followed up the river as we rode, + And rode till midnight when the college lights + Began to glitter firefly-like in copse + And linden alley: then we past an arch, + Whereon a woman-statue rose with wings + From four winged horses dark against the stars; + And some inscription ran along the front, + But deep in shadow: further on we gained + A little street half garden and half house; + But scarce could hear each other speak for noise + Of clocks and chimes, like silver hammers falling + On silver anvils, and the splash and stir + Of fountains spouted up and showering down + In meshes of the jasmine and the rose: + And all about us pealed the nightingale, + Rapt in her song, and careless of the snare. + + There stood a bust of Pallas for a sign, + By two sphere lamps blazoned like Heaven and Earth + With constellation and with continent, + Above an entry: riding in, we called; + A plump-armed Ostleress and a stable wench + Came running at the call, and helped us down. + Then stept a buxom hostess forth, and sailed, + Full-blown, before us into rooms which gave + Upon a pillared porch, the bases lost + In laurel: her we asked of that and this, + And who were tutors. 'Lady Blanche' she said, + 'And Lady Psyche.' 'Which was prettiest, + Best-natured?' 'Lady Psyche.' 'Hers are we,' + One voice, we cried; and I sat down and wrote, + In such a hand as when a field of corn + Bows all its ears before the roaring East; + + 'Three ladies of the Northern empire pray + Your Highness would enroll them with your own, + As Lady Psyche's pupils.' + This I sealed: + The seal was Cupid bent above a scroll, + And o'er his head Uranian Venus hung, + And raised the blinding bandage from his eyes: + I gave the letter to be sent with dawn; + And then to bed, where half in doze I seemed + To float about a glimmering night, and watch + A full sea glazed with muffled moonlight, swell + On some dark shore just seen that it was rich. + + + As through the land at eve we went, + And plucked the ripened ears, + We fell out, my wife and I, + O we fell out I know not why, + And kissed again with tears. + And blessings on the falling out + That all the more endears, + When we fall out with those we love + And kiss again with tears! + For when we came where lies the child + We lost in other years, + There above the little grave, + O there above the little grave, + We kissed again with tears. + + + + +II + + + + At break of day the College Portress came: + She brought us Academic silks, in hue + The lilac, with a silken hood to each, + And zoned with gold; and now when these were on, + And we as rich as moths from dusk cocoons, + She, curtseying her obeisance, let us know + The Princess Ida waited: out we paced, + I first, and following through the porch that sang + All round with laurel, issued in a court + Compact of lucid marbles, bossed with lengths + Of classic frieze, with ample awnings gay + Betwixt the pillars, and with great urns of flowers. + The Muses and the Graces, grouped in threes, + Enringed a billowing fountain in the midst; + And here and there on lattice edges lay + Or book or lute; but hastily we past, + And up a flight of stairs into the hall. + + There at a board by tome and paper sat, + With two tame leopards couched beside her throne, + All beauty compassed in a female form, + The Princess; liker to the inhabitant + Of some clear planet close upon the Sun, + Than our man's earth; such eyes were in her head, + And so much grace and power, breathing down + From over her arched brows, with every turn + Lived through her to the tips of her long hands, + And to her feet. She rose her height, and said: + + 'We give you welcome: not without redound + Of use and glory to yourselves ye come, + The first-fruits of the stranger: aftertime, + And that full voice which circles round the grave, + Will rank you nobly, mingled up with me. + What! are the ladies of your land so tall?' + 'We of the court' said Cyril. 'From the court' + She answered, 'then ye know the Prince?' and he: + 'The climax of his age! as though there were + One rose in all the world, your Highness that, + He worships your ideal:' she replied: + 'We scarcely thought in our own hall to hear + This barren verbiage, current among men, + Light coin, the tinsel clink of compliment. + Your flight from out your bookless wilds would seem + As arguing love of knowledge and of power; + Your language proves you still the child. Indeed, + We dream not of him: when we set our hand + To this great work, we purposed with ourself + Never to wed. You likewise will do well, + Ladies, in entering here, to cast and fling + The tricks, which make us toys of men, that so, + Some future time, if so indeed you will, + You may with those self-styled our lords ally + Your fortunes, justlier balanced, scale with scale.' + + At those high words, we conscious of ourselves, + Perused the matting: then an officer + Rose up, and read the statutes, such as these: + Not for three years to correspond with home; + Not for three years to cross the liberties; + Not for three years to speak with any men; + And many more, which hastily subscribed, + We entered on the boards: and 'Now,' she cried, + 'Ye are green wood, see ye warp not. Look, our hall! + Our statues!--not of those that men desire, + Sleek Odalisques, or oracles of mode, + Nor stunted squaws of West or East; but she + That taught the Sabine how to rule, and she + The foundress of the Babylonian wall, + The Carian Artemisia strong in war, + The Rhodope, that built the pyramid, + Clelia, Cornelia, with the Palmyrene + That fought Aurelian, and the Roman brows + Of Agrippina. Dwell with these, and lose + Convention, since to look on noble forms + Makes noble through the sensuous organism + That which is higher. O lift your natures up: + Embrace our aims: work out your freedom. Girls, + Knowledge is now no more a fountain sealed: + Drink deep, until the habits of the slave, + The sins of emptiness, gossip and spite + And slander, die. Better not be at all + Than not be noble. Leave us: you may go: + Today the Lady Psyche will harangue + The fresh arrivals of the week before; + For they press in from all the provinces, + And fill the hive.' + She spoke, and bowing waved + Dismissal: back again we crost the court + To Lady Psyche's: as we entered in, + There sat along the forms, like morning doves + That sun their milky bosoms on the thatch, + A patient range of pupils; she herself + Erect behind a desk of satin-wood, + A quick brunette, well-moulded, falcon-eyed, + And on the hither side, or so she looked, + Of twenty summers. At her left, a child, + In shining draperies, headed like a star, + Her maiden babe, a double April old, + Aglaia slept. We sat: the Lady glanced: + Then Florian, but not livelier than the dame + That whispered 'Asses' ears', among the sedge, + 'My sister.' 'Comely, too, by all that's fair,' + Said Cyril. 'Oh hush, hush!' and she began. + + 'This world was once a fluid haze of light, + Till toward the centre set the starry tides, + And eddied into suns, that wheeling cast + The planets: then the monster, then the man; + Tattooed or woaded, winter-clad in skins, + Raw from the prime, and crushing down his mate; + As yet we find in barbarous isles, and here + Among the lowest.' + Thereupon she took + A bird's-eye-view of all the ungracious past; + Glanced at the legendary Amazon + As emblematic of a nobler age; + Appraised the Lycian custom, spoke of those + That lay at wine with Lar and Lucumo; + Ran down the Persian, Grecian, Roman lines + Of empire, and the woman's state in each, + How far from just; till warming with her theme + She fulmined out her scorn of laws Salique + And little-footed China, touched on Mahomet + With much contempt, and came to chivalry: + When some respect, however slight, was paid + To woman, superstition all awry: + However then commenced the dawn: a beam + Had slanted forward, falling in a land + Of promise; fruit would follow. Deep, indeed, + Their debt of thanks to her who first had dared + To leap the rotten pales of prejudice, + Disyoke their necks from custom, and assert + None lordlier than themselves but that which made + Woman and man. She had founded; they must build. + Here might they learn whatever men were taught: + Let them not fear: some said their heads were less: + Some men's were small; not they the least of men; + For often fineness compensated size: + Besides the brain was like the hand, and grew + With using; thence the man's, if more was more; + He took advantage of his strength to be + First in the field: some ages had been lost; + But woman ripened earlier, and her life + Was longer; and albeit their glorious names + Were fewer, scattered stars, yet since in truth + The highest is the measure of the man, + And not the Kaffir, Hottentot, Malay, + Nor those horn-handed breakers of the glebe, + But Homer, Plato, Verulam; even so + With woman: and in arts of government + Elizabeth and others; arts of war + The peasant Joan and others; arts of grace + Sappho and others vied with any man: + And, last not least, she who had left her place, + And bowed her state to them, that they might grow + To use and power on this Oasis, lapt + In the arms of leisure, sacred from the blight + Of ancient influence and scorn. + At last + She rose upon a wind of prophecy + Dilating on the future; 'everywhere + Who heads in council, two beside the hearth, + Two in the tangled business of the world, + Two in the liberal offices of life, + Two plummets dropt for one to sound the abyss + Of science, and the secrets of the mind: + Musician, painter, sculptor, critic, more: + And everywhere the broad and bounteous Earth + Should bear a double growth of those rare souls, + Poets, whose thoughts enrich the blood of the world.' + + She ended here, and beckoned us: the rest + Parted; and, glowing full-faced welcome, she + Began to address us, and was moving on + In gratulation, till as when a boat + Tacks, and the slackened sail flaps, all her voice + Faltering and fluttering in her throat, she cried + 'My brother!' 'Well, my sister.' 'O,' she said, + 'What do you here? and in this dress? and these? + Why who are these? a wolf within the fold! + A pack of wolves! the Lord be gracious to me! + A plot, a plot, a plot to ruin all!' + 'No plot, no plot,' he answered. 'Wretched boy, + How saw you not the inscription on the gate, + LET NO MAN ENTER IN ON PAIN OF DEATH?' + 'And if I had,' he answered, 'who could think + The softer Adams of your Academe, + O sister, Sirens though they be, were such + As chanted on the blanching bones of men?' + 'But you will find it otherwise' she said. + 'You jest: ill jesting with edge-tools! my vow + Binds me to speak, and O that iron will, + That axelike edge unturnable, our Head, + The Princess.' 'Well then, Psyche, take my life, + And nail me like a weasel on a grange + For warning: bury me beside the gate, + And cut this epitaph above my bones; + _Here lies a brother by a sister slain, + All for the common good of womankind._' + 'Let me die too,' said Cyril, 'having seen + And heard the Lady Psyche.' + I struck in: + 'Albeit so masked, Madam, I love the truth; + Receive it; and in me behold the Prince + Your countryman, affianced years ago + To the Lady Ida: here, for here she was, + And thus (what other way was left) I came.' + 'O Sir, O Prince, I have no country; none; + If any, this; but none. Whate'er I was + Disrooted, what I am is grafted here. + Affianced, Sir? love-whispers may not breathe + Within this vestal limit, and how should I, + Who am not mine, say, live: the thunderbolt + Hangs silent; but prepare: I speak; it falls.' + 'Yet pause,' I said: 'for that inscription there, + I think no more of deadly lurks therein, + Than in a clapper clapping in a garth, + To scare the fowl from fruit: if more there be, + If more and acted on, what follows? war; + Your own work marred: for this your Academe, + Whichever side be Victor, in the halloo + Will topple to the trumpet down, and pass + With all fair theories only made to gild + A stormless summer.' 'Let the Princess judge + Of that' she said: 'farewell, Sir--and to you. + I shudder at the sequel, but I go.' + + 'Are you that Lady Psyche,' I rejoined, + 'The fifth in line from that old Florian, + Yet hangs his portrait in my father's hall + (The gaunt old Baron with his beetle brow + Sun-shaded in the heat of dusty fights) + As he bestrode my Grandsire, when he fell, + And all else fled? we point to it, and we say, + The loyal warmth of Florian is not cold, + But branches current yet in kindred veins.' + 'Are you that Psyche,' Florian added; 'she + With whom I sang about the morning hills, + Flung ball, flew kite, and raced the purple fly, + And snared the squirrel of the glen? are you + That Psyche, wont to bind my throbbing brow, + To smoothe my pillow, mix the foaming draught + Of fever, tell me pleasant tales, and read + My sickness down to happy dreams? are you + That brother-sister Psyche, both in one? + You were that Psyche, but what are you now?' + 'You are that Psyche,' said Cyril, 'for whom + I would be that for ever which I seem, + Woman, if I might sit beside your feet, + And glean your scattered sapience.' + Then once more, + 'Are you that Lady Psyche,' I began, + 'That on her bridal morn before she past + From all her old companions, when the kind + Kissed her pale cheek, declared that ancient ties + Would still be dear beyond the southern hills; + That were there any of our people there + In want or peril, there was one to hear + And help them? look! for such are these and I.' + 'Are you that Psyche,' Florian asked, 'to whom, + In gentler days, your arrow-wounded fawn + Came flying while you sat beside the well? + The creature laid his muzzle on your lap, + And sobbed, and you sobbed with it, and the blood + Was sprinkled on your kirtle, and you wept. + That was fawn's blood, not brother's, yet you wept. + O by the bright head of my little niece, + You were that Psyche, and what are you now?' + 'You are that Psyche,' Cyril said again, + 'The mother of the sweetest little maid, + That ever crowed for kisses.' + 'Out upon it!' + She answered, 'peace! and why should I not play + The Spartan Mother with emotion, be + The Lucius Junius Brutus of my kind? + Him you call great: he for the common weal, + The fading politics of mortal Rome, + As I might slay this child, if good need were, + Slew both his sons: and I, shall I, on whom + The secular emancipation turns + Of half this world, be swerved from right to save + A prince, a brother? a little will I yield. + Best so, perchance, for us, and well for you. + O hard, when love and duty clash! I fear + My conscience will not count me fleckless; yet-- + Hear my conditions: promise (otherwise + You perish) as you came, to slip away + Today, tomorrow, soon: it shall be said, + These women were too barbarous, would not learn; + They fled, who might have shamed us: promise, all.' + + What could we else, we promised each; and she, + Like some wild creature newly-caged, commenced + A to-and-fro, so pacing till she paused + By Florian; holding out her lily arms + Took both his hands, and smiling faintly said: + 'I knew you at the first: though you have grown + You scarce have altered: I am sad and glad + To see you, Florian. _I_ give thee to death + My brother! it was duty spoke, not I. + My needful seeming harshness, pardon it. + Our mother, is she well?' + With that she kissed + His forehead, then, a moment after, clung + About him, and betwixt them blossomed up + From out a common vein of memory + Sweet household talk, and phrases of the hearth, + And far allusion, till the gracious dews + Began to glisten and to fall: and while + They stood, so rapt, we gazing, came a voice, + 'I brought a message here from Lady Blanche.' + Back started she, and turning round we saw + The Lady Blanche's daughter where she stood, + Melissa, with her hand upon the lock, + A rosy blonde, and in a college gown, + That clad her like an April daffodilly + (Her mother's colour) with her lips apart, + And all her thoughts as fair within her eyes, + As bottom agates seen to wave and float + In crystal currents of clear morning seas. + + So stood that same fair creature at the door. + Then Lady Psyche, 'Ah--Melissa--you! + You heard us?' and Melissa, 'O pardon me + I heard, I could not help it, did not wish: + But, dearest Lady, pray you fear me not, + Nor think I bear that heart within my breast, + To give three gallant gentlemen to death.' + 'I trust you,' said the other, 'for we two + Were always friends, none closer, elm and vine: + But yet your mother's jealous temperament-- + Let not your prudence, dearest, drowse, or prove + The Danaid of a leaky vase, for fear + This whole foundation ruin, and I lose + My honour, these their lives.' 'Ah, fear me not' + Replied Melissa; 'no--I would not tell, + No, not for all Aspasia's cleverness, + No, not to answer, Madam, all those hard things + That Sheba came to ask of Solomon.' + 'Be it so' the other, 'that we still may lead + The new light up, and culminate in peace, + For Solomon may come to Sheba yet.' + Said Cyril, 'Madam, he the wisest man + Feasted the woman wisest then, in halls + Of Lebanonian cedar: nor should you + (Though, Madam, _you_ should answer, _we_ would ask) + Less welcome find among us, if you came + Among us, debtors for our lives to you, + Myself for something more.' He said not what, + But 'Thanks,' she answered 'Go: we have been too long + Together: keep your hoods about the face; + They do so that affect abstraction here. + Speak little; mix not with the rest; and hold + Your promise: all, I trust, may yet be well.' + + We turned to go, but Cyril took the child, + And held her round the knees against his waist, + And blew the swollen cheek of a trumpeter, + While Psyche watched them, smiling, and the child + Pushed her flat hand against his face and laughed; + And thus our conference closed. + And then we strolled + For half the day through stately theatres + Benched crescent-wise. In each we sat, we heard + The grave Professor. On the lecture slate + The circle rounded under female hands + With flawless demonstration: followed then + A classic lecture, rich in sentiment, + With scraps of thunderous Epic lilted out + By violet-hooded Doctors, elegies + And quoted odes, and jewels five-words-long + That on the stretched forefinger of all Time + Sparkle for ever: then we dipt in all + That treats of whatsoever is, the state, + The total chronicles of man, the mind, + The morals, something of the frame, the rock, + The star, the bird, the fish, the shell, the flower, + Electric, chemic laws, and all the rest, + And whatsoever can be taught and known; + Till like three horses that have broken fence, + And glutted all night long breast-deep in corn, + We issued gorged with knowledge, and I spoke: + 'Why, Sirs, they do all this as well as we.' + 'They hunt old trails' said Cyril 'very well; + But when did woman ever yet invent?' + 'Ungracious!' answered Florian; 'have you learnt + No more from Psyche's lecture, you that talked + The trash that made me sick, and almost sad?' + 'O trash' he said, 'but with a kernel in it. + Should I not call her wise, who made me wise? + And learnt? I learnt more from her in a flash, + Than in my brainpan were an empty hull, + And every Muse tumbled a science in. + A thousand hearts lie fallow in these halls, + And round these halls a thousand baby loves + Fly twanging headless arrows at the hearts, + Whence follows many a vacant pang; but O + With me, Sir, entered in the bigger boy, + The Head of all the golden-shafted firm, + The long-limbed lad that had a Psyche too; + He cleft me through the stomacher; and now + What think you of it, Florian? do I chase + The substance or the shadow? will it hold? + I have no sorcerer's malison on me, + No ghostly hauntings like his Highness. I + Flatter myself that always everywhere + I know the substance when I see it. Well, + Are castles shadows? Three of them? Is she + The sweet proprietress a shadow? If not, + Shall those three castles patch my tattered coat? + For dear are those three castles to my wants, + And dear is sister Psyche to my heart, + And two dear things are one of double worth, + And much I might have said, but that my zone + Unmanned me: then the Doctors! O to hear + The Doctors! O to watch the thirsty plants + Imbibing! once or twice I thought to roar, + To break my chain, to shake my mane: but thou, + Modulate me, Soul of mincing mimicry! + Make liquid treble of that bassoon, my throat; + Abase those eyes that ever loved to meet + Star-sisters answering under crescent brows; + Abate the stride, which speaks of man, and loose + A flying charm of blushes o'er this cheek, + Where they like swallows coming out of time + Will wonder why they came: but hark the bell + For dinner, let us go!' + And in we streamed + Among the columns, pacing staid and still + By twos and threes, till all from end to end + With beauties every shade of brown and fair + In colours gayer than the morning mist, + The long hall glittered like a bed of flowers. + How might a man not wander from his wits + Pierced through with eyes, but that I kept mine own + Intent on her, who rapt in glorious dreams, + The second-sight of some Astraean age, + Sat compassed with professors: they, the while, + Discussed a doubt and tost it to and fro: + A clamour thickened, mixt with inmost terms + Of art and science: Lady Blanche alone + Of faded form and haughtiest lineaments, + With all her autumn tresses falsely brown, + Shot sidelong daggers at us, a tiger-cat + In act to spring. + At last a solemn grace + Concluded, and we sought the gardens: there + One walked reciting by herself, and one + In this hand held a volume as to read, + And smoothed a petted peacock down with that: + Some to a low song oared a shallop by, + Or under arches of the marble bridge + Hung, shadowed from the heat: some hid and sought + In the orange thickets: others tost a ball + Above the fountain-jets, and back again + With laughter: others lay about the lawns, + Of the older sort, and murmured that their May + Was passing: what was learning unto them? + They wished to marry; they could rule a house; + Men hated learned women: but we three + Sat muffled like the Fates; and often came + Melissa hitting all we saw with shafts + Of gentle satire, kin to charity, + That harmed not: then day droopt; the chapel bells + Called us: we left the walks; we mixt with those + Six hundred maidens clad in purest white, + Before two streams of light from wall to wall, + While the great organ almost burst his pipes, + Groaning for power, and rolling through the court + A long melodious thunder to the sound + Of solemn psalms, and silver litanies, + The work of Ida, to call down from Heaven + A blessing on her labours for the world. + + + Sweet and low, sweet and low, + Wind of the western sea, + Low, low, breathe and blow, + Wind of the western sea! + Over the rolling waters go, + Come from the dying moon, and blow, + Blow him again to me; + While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. + + Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, + Father will come to thee soon; + Rest, rest, on mother's breast, + Father will come to thee soon; + Father will come to his babe in the nest, + Silver sails all out of the west + Under the silver moon: + Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. + + + + +III + + + + Morn in the wake of the morning star + Came furrowing all the orient into gold. + We rose, and each by other drest with care + Descended to the court that lay three parts + In shadow, but the Muses' heads were touched + Above the darkness from their native East. + + There while we stood beside the fount, and watched + Or seemed to watch the dancing bubble, approached + Melissa, tinged with wan from lack of sleep, + Or grief, and glowing round her dewy eyes + The circled Iris of a night of tears; + 'And fly,' she cried, 'O fly, while yet you may! + My mother knows:' and when I asked her 'how,' + 'My fault' she wept 'my fault! and yet not mine; + Yet mine in part. O hear me, pardon me. + My mother, 'tis her wont from night to night + To rail at Lady Psyche and her side. + She says the Princess should have been the Head, + Herself and Lady Psyche the two arms; + And so it was agreed when first they came; + But Lady Psyche was the right hand now, + And the left, or not, or seldom used; + Hers more than half the students, all the love. + And so last night she fell to canvass you: + _Her_ countrywomen! she did not envy her. + "Who ever saw such wild barbarians? + Girls?--more like men!" and at these words the snake, + My secret, seemed to stir within my breast; + And oh, Sirs, could I help it, but my cheek + Began to burn and burn, and her lynx eye + To fix and make me hotter, till she laughed: + "O marvellously modest maiden, you! + Men! girls, like men! why, if they had been men + You need not set your thoughts in rubric thus + For wholesale comment." Pardon, I am shamed + That I must needs repeat for my excuse + What looks so little graceful: "men" (for still + My mother went revolving on the word) + "And so they are,--very like men indeed-- + And with that woman closeted for hours!" + Then came these dreadful words out one by one, + "Why--these--_are_--men:" I shuddered: "and you know it." + "O ask me nothing," I said: "And she knows too, + And she conceals it." So my mother clutched + The truth at once, but with no word from me; + And now thus early risen she goes to inform + The Princess: Lady Psyche will be crushed; + But you may yet be saved, and therefore fly; + But heal me with your pardon ere you go.' + + 'What pardon, sweet Melissa, for a blush?' + Said Cyril: 'Pale one, blush again: than wear + Those lilies, better blush our lives away. + Yet let us breathe for one hour more in Heaven' + He added, 'lest some classic Angel speak + In scorn of us, "They mounted, Ganymedes, + To tumble, Vulcans, on the second morn." + But I will melt this marble into wax + To yield us farther furlough:' and he went. + + Melissa shook her doubtful curls, and thought + He scarce would prosper. 'Tell us,' Florian asked, + 'How grew this feud betwixt the right and left.' + 'O long ago,' she said, 'betwixt these two + Division smoulders hidden; 'tis my mother, + Too jealous, often fretful as the wind + Pent in a crevice: much I bear with her: + I never knew my father, but she says + (God help her) she was wedded to a fool; + And still she railed against the state of things. + She had the care of Lady Ida's youth, + And from the Queen's decease she brought her up. + But when your sister came she won the heart + Of Ida: they were still together, grew + (For so they said themselves) inosculated; + Consonant chords that shiver to one note; + One mind in all things: yet my mother still + Affirms your Psyche thieved her theories, + And angled with them for her pupil's love: + She calls her plagiarist; I know not what: + But I must go: I dare not tarry,' and light, + As flies the shadow of a bird, she fled. + + Then murmured Florian gazing after her, + 'An open-hearted maiden, true and pure. + If I could love, why this were she: how pretty + Her blushing was, and how she blushed again, + As if to close with Cyril's random wish: + Not like your Princess crammed with erring pride, + Nor like poor Psyche whom she drags in tow.' + + 'The crane,' I said, 'may chatter of the crane, + The dove may murmur of the dove, but I + An eagle clang an eagle to the sphere. + My princess, O my princess! true she errs, + But in her own grand way: being herself + Three times more noble than three score of men, + She sees herself in every woman else, + And so she wears her error like a crown + To blind the truth and me: for her, and her, + Hebes are they to hand ambrosia, mix + The nectar; but--ah she--whene'er she moves + The Samian Here rises and she speaks + A Memnon smitten with the morning Sun.' + + So saying from the court we paced, and gained + The terrace ranged along the Northern front, + And leaning there on those balusters, high + Above the empurpled champaign, drank the gale + That blown about the foliage underneath, + And sated with the innumerable rose, + Beat balm upon our eyelids. Hither came + Cyril, and yawning 'O hard task,' he cried; + 'No fighting shadows here! I forced a way + Through opposition crabbed and gnarled. + Better to clear prime forests, heave and thump + A league of street in summer solstice down, + Than hammer at this reverend gentlewoman. + I knocked and, bidden, entered; found her there + At point to move, and settled in her eyes + The green malignant light of coming storm. + Sir, I was courteous, every phrase well-oiled, + As man's could be; yet maiden-meek I prayed + Concealment: she demanded who we were, + And why we came? I fabled nothing fair, + But, your example pilot, told her all. + Up went the hushed amaze of hand and eye. + But when I dwelt upon your old affiance, + She answered sharply that I talked astray. + I urged the fierce inscription on the gate, + And our three lives. True--we had limed ourselves + With open eyes, and we must take the chance. + But such extremes, I told her, well might harm + The woman's cause. "Not more than now," she said, + "So puddled as it is with favouritism." + I tried the mother's heart. Shame might befall + Melissa, knowing, saying not she knew: + Her answer was "Leave me to deal with that." + I spoke of war to come and many deaths, + And she replied, her duty was to speak, + And duty duty, clear of consequences. + I grew discouraged, Sir; but since I knew + No rock so hard but that a little wave + May beat admission in a thousand years, + I recommenced; "Decide not ere you pause. + I find you here but in the second place, + Some say the third--the authentic foundress you. + I offer boldly: we will seat you highest: + Wink at our advent: help my prince to gain + His rightful bride, and here I promise you + Some palace in our land, where you shall reign + The head and heart of all our fair she-world, + And your great name flow on with broadening time + For ever." Well, she balanced this a little, + And told me she would answer us today, + meantime be mute: thus much, nor more I gained.' + + He ceasing, came a message from the Head. + 'That afternoon the Princess rode to take + The dip of certain strata to the North. + Would we go with her? we should find the land + Worth seeing; and the river made a fall + Out yonder:' then she pointed on to where + A double hill ran up his furrowy forks + Beyond the thick-leaved platans of the vale. + + Agreed to, this, the day fled on through all + Its range of duties to the appointed hour. + Then summoned to the porch we went. She stood + Among her maidens, higher by the head, + Her back against a pillar, her foot on one + Of those tame leopards. Kittenlike he rolled + And pawed about her sandal. I drew near; + I gazed. On a sudden my strange seizure came + Upon me, the weird vision of our house: + The Princess Ida seemed a hollow show, + Her gay-furred cats a painted fantasy, + Her college and her maidens, empty masks, + And I myself the shadow of a dream, + For all things were and were not. Yet I felt + My heart beat thick with passion and with awe; + Then from my breast the involuntary sigh + Brake, as she smote me with the light of eyes + That lent my knee desire to kneel, and shook + My pulses, till to horse we got, and so + Went forth in long retinue following up + The river as it narrowed to the hills. + + I rode beside her and to me she said: + 'O friend, we trust that you esteemed us not + Too harsh to your companion yestermorn; + Unwillingly we spake.' 'No--not to her,' + I answered, 'but to one of whom we spake + Your Highness might have seemed the thing you say.' + 'Again?' she cried, 'are you ambassadresses + From him to me? we give you, being strange, + A license: speak, and let the topic die.' + + I stammered that I knew him--could have wished-- + 'Our king expects--was there no precontract? + There is no truer-hearted--ah, you seem + All he prefigured, and he could not see + The bird of passage flying south but longed + To follow: surely, if your Highness keep + Your purport, you will shock him even to death, + Or baser courses, children of despair.' + + 'Poor boy,' she said, 'can he not read--no books? + Quoit, tennis, ball--no games? nor deals in that + Which men delight in, martial exercise? + To nurse a blind ideal like a girl, + Methinks he seems no better than a girl; + As girls were once, as we ourself have been: + We had our dreams; perhaps he mixt with them: + We touch on our dead self, nor shun to do it, + Being other--since we learnt our meaning here, + To lift the woman's fallen divinity + Upon an even pedestal with man.' + + She paused, and added with a haughtier smile + 'And as to precontracts, we move, my friend, + At no man's beck, but know ourself and thee, + O Vashti, noble Vashti! Summoned out + She kept her state, and left the drunken king + To brawl at Shushan underneath the palms.' + + 'Alas your Highness breathes full East,' I said, + 'On that which leans to you. I know the Prince, + I prize his truth: and then how vast a work + To assail this gray preeminence of man! + You grant me license; might I use it? think; + Ere half be done perchance your life may fail; + Then comes the feebler heiress of your plan, + And takes and ruins all; and thus your pains + May only make that footprint upon sand + Which old-recurring waves of prejudice + Resmooth to nothing: might I dread that you, + With only Fame for spouse and your great deeds + For issue, yet may live in vain, and miss, + Meanwhile, what every woman counts her due, + Love, children, happiness?' + And she exclaimed, + 'Peace, you young savage of the Northern wild! + What! though your Prince's love were like a God's, + Have we not made ourself the sacrifice? + You are bold indeed: we are not talked to thus: + Yet will we say for children, would they grew + Like field-flowers everywhere! we like them well: + But children die; and let me tell you, girl, + Howe'er you babble, great deeds cannot die; + They with the sun and moon renew their light + For ever, blessing those that look on them. + Children--that men may pluck them from our hearts, + Kill us with pity, break us with ourselves-- + O--children--there is nothing upon earth + More miserable than she that has a son + And sees him err: nor would we work for fame; + Though she perhaps might reap the applause of Great, + Who earns the one POU STO whence after-hands + May move the world, though she herself effect + But little: wherefore up and act, nor shrink + For fear our solid aim be dissipated + By frail successors. Would, indeed, we had been, + In lieu of many mortal flies, a race + Of giants living, each, a thousand years, + That we might see our own work out, and watch + The sandy footprint harden into stone.' + + I answered nothing, doubtful in myself + If that strange Poet-princess with her grand + Imaginations might at all be won. + And she broke out interpreting my thoughts: + + 'No doubt we seem a kind of monster to you; + We are used to that: for women, up till this + Cramped under worse than South-sea-isle taboo, + Dwarfs of the gynaeceum, fail so far + In high desire, they know not, cannot guess + How much their welfare is a passion to us. + If we could give them surer, quicker proof-- + Oh if our end were less achievable + By slow approaches, than by single act + Of immolation, any phase of death, + We were as prompt to spring against the pikes, + Or down the fiery gulf as talk of it, + To compass our dear sisters' liberties.' + + She bowed as if to veil a noble tear; + And up we came to where the river sloped + To plunge in cataract, shattering on black blocks + A breadth of thunder. O'er it shook the woods, + And danced the colour, and, below, stuck out + The bones of some vast bulk that lived and roared + Before man was. She gazed awhile and said, + 'As these rude bones to us, are we to her + That will be.' 'Dare we dream of that,' I asked, + 'Which wrought us, as the workman and his work, + That practice betters?' 'How,' she cried, 'you love + The metaphysics! read and earn our prize, + A golden brooch: beneath an emerald plane + Sits Diotima, teaching him that died + Of hemlock; our device; wrought to the life; + She rapt upon her subject, he on her: + For there are schools for all.' 'And yet' I said + 'Methinks I have not found among them all + One anatomic.' 'Nay, we thought of that,' + She answered, 'but it pleased us not: in truth + We shudder but to dream our maids should ape + Those monstrous males that carve the living hound, + And cram him with the fragments of the grave, + Or in the dark dissolving human heart, + And holy secrets of this microcosm, + Dabbling a shameless hand with shameful jest, + Encarnalize their spirits: yet we know + Knowledge is knowledge, and this matter hangs: + Howbeit ourself, foreseeing casualty, + Nor willing men should come among us, learnt, + For many weary moons before we came, + This craft of healing. Were you sick, ourself + Would tend upon you. To your question now, + Which touches on the workman and his work. + Let there be light and there was light: 'tis so: + For was, and is, and will be, are but is; + And all creation is one act at once, + The birth of light: but we that are not all, + As parts, can see but parts, now this, now that, + And live, perforce, from thought to thought, and make + One act a phantom of succession: thus + Our weakness somehow shapes the shadow, Time; + But in the shadow will we work, and mould + The woman to the fuller day.' + She spake + With kindled eyes; we rode a league beyond, + And, o'er a bridge of pinewood crossing, came + On flowery levels underneath the crag, + Full of all beauty. 'O how sweet' I said + (For I was half-oblivious of my mask) + 'To linger here with one that loved us.' 'Yea,' + She answered, 'or with fair philosophies + That lift the fancy; for indeed these fields + Are lovely, lovelier not the Elysian lawns, + Where paced the Demigods of old, and saw + The soft white vapour streak the crowned towers + Built to the Sun:' then, turning to her maids, + 'Pitch our pavilion here upon the sward; + Lay out the viands.' At the word, they raised + A tent of satin, elaborately wrought + With fair Corinna's triumph; here she stood, + Engirt with many a florid maiden-cheek, + The woman-conqueror; woman-conquered there + The bearded Victor of ten-thousand hymns, + And all the men mourned at his side: but we + Set forth to climb; then, climbing, Cyril kept + With Psyche, with Melissa Florian, I + With mine affianced. Many a little hand + Glanced like a touch of sunshine on the rocks, + Many a light foot shone like a jewel set + In the dark crag: and then we turned, we wound + About the cliffs, the copses, out and in, + Hammering and clinking, chattering stony names + Of shales and hornblende, rag and trap and tuff, + Amygdaloid and trachyte, till the Sun + Grew broader toward his death and fell, and all + The rosy heights came out above the lawns. + + + The splendour falls on castle walls + And snowy summits old in story: + The long light shakes across the lakes, + And the wild cataract leaps in glory. + Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, + Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. + + O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, + And thinner, clearer, farther going! + O sweet and far from cliff and scar + The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! + Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: + Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. + + O love, they die in yon rich sky, + They faint on hill or field or river: + Our echoes roll from soul to soul, + And grow for ever and for ever. + Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, + And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. + + + + +IV + + + + 'There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun, + If that hypothesis of theirs be sound' + Said Ida; 'let us down and rest;' and we + Down from the lean and wrinkled precipices, + By every coppice-feathered chasm and cleft, + Dropt through the ambrosial gloom to where below + No bigger than a glow-worm shone the tent + Lamp-lit from the inner. Once she leaned on me, + Descending; once or twice she lent her hand, + And blissful palpitations in the blood, + Stirring a sudden transport rose and fell. + + But when we planted level feet, and dipt + Beneath the satin dome and entered in, + There leaning deep in broidered down we sank + Our elbows: on a tripod in the midst + A fragrant flame rose, and before us glowed + Fruit, blossom, viand, amber wine, and gold. + + Then she, 'Let some one sing to us: lightlier move + The minutes fledged with music:' and a maid, + Of those beside her, smote her harp, and sang. + + + 'Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, + Tears from the depth of some divine despair + Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, + In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, + And thinking of the days that are no more. + + 'Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, + That brings our friends up from the underworld, + Sad as the last which reddens over one + That sinks with all we love below the verge; + So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more. + + 'Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns + The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds + To dying ears, when unto dying eyes + The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; + So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. + + 'Dear as remembered kisses after death, + And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned + On lips that are for others; deep as love, + Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; + O Death in Life, the days that are no more.' + + + She ended with such passion that the tear, + She sang of, shook and fell, an erring pearl + Lost in her bosom: but with some disdain + Answered the Princess, 'If indeed there haunt + About the mouldered lodges of the Past + So sweet a voice and vague, fatal to men, + Well needs it we should cram our ears with wool + And so pace by: but thine are fancies hatched + In silken-folded idleness; nor is it + Wiser to weep a true occasion lost, + But trim our sails, and let old bygones be, + While down the streams that float us each and all + To the issue, goes, like glittering bergs of ice, + Throne after throne, and molten on the waste + Becomes a cloud: for all things serve their time + Toward that great year of equal mights and rights, + Nor would I fight with iron laws, in the end + Found golden: let the past be past; let be + Their cancelled Babels: though the rough kex break + The starred mosaic, and the beard-blown goat + Hang on the shaft, and the wild figtree split + Their monstrous idols, care not while we hear + A trumpet in the distance pealing news + Of better, and Hope, a poising eagle, burns + Above the unrisen morrow:' then to me; + 'Know you no song of your own land,' she said, + 'Not such as moans about the retrospect, + But deals with the other distance and the hues + Of promise; not a death's-head at the wine.' + + Then I remembered one myself had made, + What time I watched the swallow winging south + From mine own land, part made long since, and part + Now while I sang, and maidenlike as far + As I could ape their treble, did I sing. + + + 'O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South, + Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, + And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee. + + 'O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each, + That bright and fierce and fickle is the South, + And dark and true and tender is the North. + + 'O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light + Upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill, + And cheep and twitter twenty million loves. + + 'O were I thou that she might take me in, + And lay me on her bosom, and her heart + Would rock the snowy cradle till I died. + + 'Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love, + Delaying as the tender ash delays + To clothe herself, when all the woods are green? + + 'O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown: + Say to her, I do but wanton in the South, + But in the North long since my nest is made. + + 'O tell her, brief is life but love is long, + And brief the sun of summer in the North, + And brief the moon of beauty in the South. + + 'O Swallow, flying from the golden woods, + Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine, + And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee.' + + + I ceased, and all the ladies, each at each, + Like the Ithacensian suitors in old time, + Stared with great eyes, and laughed with alien lips, + And knew not what they meant; for still my voice + Rang false: but smiling 'Not for thee,' she said, + O Bulbul, any rose of Gulistan + Shall burst her veil: marsh-divers, rather, maid, + Shall croak thee sister, or the meadow-crake + Grate her harsh kindred in the grass: and this + A mere love-poem! O for such, my friend, + We hold them slight: they mind us of the time + When we made bricks in Egypt. Knaves are men, + That lute and flute fantastic tenderness, + And dress the victim to the offering up, + And paint the gates of Hell with Paradise, + And play the slave to gain the tyranny. + Poor soul! I had a maid of honour once; + She wept her true eyes blind for such a one, + A rogue of canzonets and serenades. + I loved her. Peace be with her. She is dead. + So they blaspheme the muse! But great is song + Used to great ends: ourself have often tried + Valkyrian hymns, or into rhythm have dashed + The passion of the prophetess; for song + Is duer unto freedom, force and growth + Of spirit than to junketing and love. + Love is it? Would this same mock-love, and this + Mock-Hymen were laid up like winter bats, + Till all men grew to rate us at our worth, + Not vassals to be beat, nor pretty babes + To be dandled, no, but living wills, and sphered + Whole in ourselves and owed to none. Enough! + But now to leaven play with profit, you, + Know you no song, the true growth of your soil, + That gives the manners of your country-women?' + + She spoke and turned her sumptuous head with eyes + Of shining expectation fixt on mine. + Then while I dragged my brains for such a song, + Cyril, with whom the bell-mouthed glass had wrought, + Or mastered by the sense of sport, began + To troll a careless, careless tavern-catch + Of Moll and Meg, and strange experiences + Unmeet for ladies. Florian nodded at him, + I frowning; Psyche flushed and wanned and shook; + The lilylike Melissa drooped her brows; + 'Forbear,' the Princess cried; 'Forbear, Sir' I; + And heated through and through with wrath and love, + I smote him on the breast; he started up; + There rose a shriek as of a city sacked; + Melissa clamoured 'Flee the death;' 'To horse' + Said Ida; 'home! to horse!' and fled, as flies + A troop of snowy doves athwart the dusk, + When some one batters at the dovecote-doors, + Disorderly the women. Alone I stood + With Florian, cursing Cyril, vext at heart, + In the pavilion: there like parting hopes + I heard them passing from me: hoof by hoof, + And every hoof a knell to my desires, + Clanged on the bridge; and then another shriek, + 'The Head, the Head, the Princess, O the Head!' + For blind with rage she missed the plank, and rolled + In the river. Out I sprang from glow to gloom: + There whirled her white robe like a blossomed branch + Rapt to the horrible fall: a glance I gave, + No more; but woman-vested as I was + Plunged; and the flood drew; yet I caught her; then + Oaring one arm, and bearing in my left + The weight of all the hopes of half the world, + Strove to buffet to land in vain. A tree + Was half-disrooted from his place and stooped + To wrench his dark locks in the gurgling wave + Mid-channel. Right on this we drove and caught, + And grasping down the boughs I gained the shore. + + There stood her maidens glimmeringly grouped + In the hollow bank. One reaching forward drew + My burthen from mine arms; they cried 'she lives:' + They bore her back into the tent: but I, + So much a kind of shame within me wrought, + Not yet endured to meet her opening eyes, + Nor found my friends; but pushed alone on foot + (For since her horse was lost I left her mine) + Across the woods, and less from Indian craft + Than beelike instinct hiveward, found at length + The garden portals. Two great statues, Art + And Science, Caryatids, lifted up + A weight of emblem, and betwixt were valves + Of open-work in which the hunter rued + His rash intrusion, manlike, but his brows + Had sprouted, and the branches thereupon + Spread out at top, and grimly spiked the gates. + + A little space was left between the horns, + Through which I clambered o'er at top with pain, + Dropt on the sward, and up the linden walks, + And, tost on thoughts that changed from hue to hue, + Now poring on the glowworm, now the star, + I paced the terrace, till the Bear had wheeled + Through a great arc his seven slow suns. + A step + Of lightest echo, then a loftier form + Than female, moving through the uncertain gloom, + Disturbed me with the doubt 'if this were she,' + But it was Florian. 'Hist O Hist,' he said, + 'They seek us: out so late is out of rules. + Moreover "seize the strangers" is the cry. + How came you here?' I told him: 'I' said he, + 'Last of the train, a moral leper, I, + To whom none spake, half-sick at heart, returned. + Arriving all confused among the rest + With hooded brows I crept into the hall, + And, couched behind a Judith, underneath + The head of Holofernes peeped and saw. + Girl after girl was called to trial: each + Disclaimed all knowledge of us: last of all, + Melissa: trust me, Sir, I pitied her. + She, questioned if she knew us men, at first + Was silent; closer prest, denied it not: + And then, demanded if her mother knew, + Or Psyche, she affirmed not, or denied: + From whence the Royal mind, familiar with her, + Easily gathered either guilt. She sent + For Psyche, but she was not there; she called + For Psyche's child to cast it from the doors; + She sent for Blanche to accuse her face to face; + And I slipt out: but whither will you now? + And where are Psyche, Cyril? both are fled: + What, if together? that were not so well. + Would rather we had never come! I dread + His wildness, and the chances of the dark.' + + 'And yet,' I said, 'you wrong him more than I + That struck him: this is proper to the clown, + Though smocked, or furred and purpled, still the clown, + To harm the thing that trusts him, and to shame + That which he says he loves: for Cyril, howe'er + He deal in frolic, as tonight--the song + Might have been worse and sinned in grosser lips + Beyond all pardon--as it is, I hold + These flashes on the surface are not he. + He has a solid base of temperament: + But as the waterlily starts and slides + Upon the level in little puffs of wind, + Though anchored to the bottom, such is he.' + + Scarce had I ceased when from a tamarisk near + Two Proctors leapt upon us, crying, 'Names:' + He, standing still, was clutched; but I began + To thrid the musky-circled mazes, wind + And double in and out the boles, and race + By all the fountains: fleet I was of foot: + Before me showered the rose in flakes; behind + I heard the puffed pursuer; at mine ear + Bubbled the nightingale and heeded not, + And secret laughter tickled all my soul. + At last I hooked my ankle in a vine, + That claspt the feet of a Mnemosyne, + And falling on my face was caught and known. + + They haled us to the Princess where she sat + High in the hall: above her drooped a lamp, + And made the single jewel on her brow + Burn like the mystic fire on a mast-head, + Prophet of storm: a handmaid on each side + Bowed toward her, combing out her long black hair + Damp from the river; and close behind her stood + Eight daughters of the plough, stronger than men, + Huge women blowzed with health, and wind, and rain, + And labour. Each was like a Druid rock; + Or like a spire of land that stands apart + Cleft from the main, and wailed about with mews. + + Then, as we came, the crowd dividing clove + An advent to the throne: and therebeside, + Half-naked as if caught at once from bed + And tumbled on the purple footcloth, lay + The lily-shining child; and on the left, + Bowed on her palms and folded up from wrong, + Her round white shoulder shaken with her sobs, + Melissa knelt; but Lady Blanche erect + Stood up and spake, an affluent orator. + + 'It was not thus, O Princess, in old days: + You prized my counsel, lived upon my lips: + I led you then to all the Castalies; + I fed you with the milk of every Muse; + I loved you like this kneeler, and you me + Your second mother: those were gracious times. + Then came your new friend: you began to change-- + I saw it and grieved--to slacken and to cool; + Till taken with her seeming openness + You turned your warmer currents all to her, + To me you froze: this was my meed for all. + Yet I bore up in part from ancient love, + And partly that I hoped to win you back, + And partly conscious of my own deserts, + And partly that you were my civil head, + And chiefly you were born for something great, + In which I might your fellow-worker be, + When time should serve; and thus a noble scheme + Grew up from seed we two long since had sown; + In us true growth, in her a Jonah's gourd, + Up in one night and due to sudden sun: + We took this palace; but even from the first + You stood in your own light and darkened mine. + What student came but that you planed her path + To Lady Psyche, younger, not so wise, + A foreigner, and I your countrywoman, + I your old friend and tried, she new in all? + But still her lists were swelled and mine were lean; + Yet I bore up in hope she would be known: + Then came these wolves: _they_ knew her: _they_ endured, + Long-closeted with her the yestermorn, + To tell her what they were, and she to hear: + And me none told: not less to an eye like mine + A lidless watcher of the public weal, + Last night, their mask was patent, and my foot + Was to you: but I thought again: I feared + To meet a cold "We thank you, we shall hear of it + From Lady Psyche:" you had gone to her, + She told, perforce; and winning easy grace + No doubt, for slight delay, remained among us + In our young nursery still unknown, the stem + Less grain than touchwood, while my honest heat + Were all miscounted as malignant haste + To push my rival out of place and power. + But public use required she should be known; + And since my oath was ta'en for public use, + I broke the letter of it to keep the sense. + I spoke not then at first, but watched them well, + Saw that they kept apart, no mischief done; + And yet this day (though you should hate me for it) + I came to tell you; found that you had gone, + Ridden to the hills, she likewise: now, I thought, + That surely she will speak; if not, then I: + Did she? These monsters blazoned what they were, + According to the coarseness of their kind, + For thus I hear; and known at last (my work) + And full of cowardice and guilty shame, + I grant in her some sense of shame, she flies; + And I remain on whom to wreak your rage, + I, that have lent my life to build up yours, + I that have wasted here health, wealth, and time, + And talent, I--you know it--I will not boast: + Dismiss me, and I prophesy your plan, + Divorced from my experience, will be chaff + For every gust of chance, and men will say + We did not know the real light, but chased + The wisp that flickers where no foot can tread.' + + She ceased: the Princess answered coldly, 'Good: + Your oath is broken: we dismiss you: go. + For this lost lamb (she pointed to the child) + Our mind is changed: we take it to ourself.' + + Thereat the Lady stretched a vulture throat, + And shot from crooked lips a haggard smile. + 'The plan was mine. I built the nest' she said + 'To hatch the cuckoo. Rise!' and stooped to updrag + Melissa: she, half on her mother propt, + Half-drooping from her, turned her face, and cast + A liquid look on Ida, full of prayer, + Which melted Florian's fancy as she hung, + A Niobean daughter, one arm out, + Appealing to the bolts of Heaven; and while + We gazed upon her came a little stir + About the doors, and on a sudden rushed + Among us, out of breath as one pursued, + A woman-post in flying raiment. Fear + Stared in her eyes, and chalked her face, and winged + Her transit to the throne, whereby she fell + Delivering sealed dispatches which the Head + Took half-amazed, and in her lion's mood + Tore open, silent we with blind surmise + Regarding, while she read, till over brow + And cheek and bosom brake the wrathful bloom + As of some fire against a stormy cloud, + When the wild peasant rights himself, the rick + Flames, and his anger reddens in the heavens; + For anger most it seemed, while now her breast, + Beaten with some great passion at her heart, + Palpitated, her hand shook, and we heard + In the dead hush the papers that she held + Rustle: at once the lost lamb at her feet + Sent out a bitter bleating for its dam; + The plaintive cry jarred on her ire; she crushed + The scrolls together, made a sudden turn + As if to speak, but, utterance failing her, + She whirled them on to me, as who should say + 'Read,' and I read--two letters--one her sire's. + + 'Fair daughter, when we sent the Prince your way, + We knew not your ungracious laws, which learnt, + We, conscious of what temper you are built, + Came all in haste to hinder wrong, but fell + Into his father's hands, who has this night, + You lying close upon his territory, + Slipt round and in the dark invested you, + And here he keeps me hostage for his son.' + + The second was my father's running thus: + 'You have our son: touch not a hair of his head: + Render him up unscathed: give him your hand: + Cleave to your contract: though indeed we hear + You hold the woman is the better man; + A rampant heresy, such as if it spread + Would make all women kick against their Lords + Through all the world, and which might well deserve + That we this night should pluck your palace down; + And we will do it, unless you send us back + Our son, on the instant, whole.' + So far I read; + And then stood up and spoke impetuously. + + 'O not to pry and peer on your reserve, + But led by golden wishes, and a hope + The child of regal compact, did I break + Your precinct; not a scorner of your sex + But venerator, zealous it should be + All that it might be: hear me, for I bear, + Though man, yet human, whatsoe'er your wrongs, + From the flaxen curl to the gray lock a life + Less mine than yours: my nurse would tell me of you; + I babbled for you, as babies for the moon, + Vague brightness; when a boy, you stooped to me + From all high places, lived in all fair lights, + Came in long breezes rapt from inmost south + And blown to inmost north; at eve and dawn + With Ida, Ida, Ida, rang the woods; + The leader wildswan in among the stars + Would clang it, and lapt in wreaths of glowworm light + The mellow breaker murmured Ida. Now, + Because I would have reached you, had you been + Sphered up with Cassiopeia, or the enthroned + Persephone in Hades, now at length, + Those winters of abeyance all worn out, + A man I came to see you: but indeed, + Not in this frequence can I lend full tongue, + O noble Ida, to those thoughts that wait + On you, their centre: let me say but this, + That many a famous man and woman, town + And landskip, have I heard of, after seen + The dwarfs of presage: though when known, there grew + Another kind of beauty in detail + Made them worth knowing; but in your I found + My boyish dream involved and dazzled down + And mastered, while that after-beauty makes + Such head from act to act, from hour to hour, + Within me, that except you slay me here, + According to your bitter statute-book, + I cannot cease to follow you, as they say + The seal does music; who desire you more + Than growing boys their manhood; dying lips, + With many thousand matters left to do, + The breath of life; O more than poor men wealth, + Than sick men health--yours, yours, not mine--but half + Without you; with you, whole; and of those halves + You worthiest; and howe'er you block and bar + Your heart with system out from mine, I hold + That it becomes no man to nurse despair, + But in the teeth of clenched antagonisms + To follow up the worthiest till he die: + Yet that I came not all unauthorized + Behold your father's letter.' + On one knee + Kneeling, I gave it, which she caught, and dashed + Unopened at her feet: a tide of fierce + Invective seemed to wait behind her lips, + As waits a river level with the dam + Ready to burst and flood the world with foam: + And so she would have spoken, but there rose + A hubbub in the court of half the maids + Gathered together: from the illumined hall + Long lanes of splendour slanted o'er a press + Of snowy shoulders, thick as herded ewes, + And rainbow robes, and gems and gemlike eyes, + And gold and golden heads; they to and fro + Fluctuated, as flowers in storm, some red, some pale, + All open-mouthed, all gazing to the light, + Some crying there was an army in the land, + And some that men were in the very walls, + And some they cared not; till a clamour grew + As of a new-world Babel, woman-built, + And worse-confounded: high above them stood + The placid marble Muses, looking peace. + + Not peace she looked, the Head: but rising up + Robed in the long night of her deep hair, so + To the open window moved, remaining there + Fixt like a beacon-tower above the waves + Of tempest, when the crimson-rolling eye + Glares ruin, and the wild birds on the light + Dash themselves dead. She stretched her arms and called + Across the tumult and the tumult fell. + + 'What fear ye, brawlers? am not I your Head? + On me, me, me, the storm first breaks: _I_ dare + All these male thunderbolts: what is it ye fear? + Peace! there are those to avenge us and they come: + If not,--myself were like enough, O girls, + To unfurl the maiden banner of our rights, + And clad in iron burst the ranks of war, + Or, falling, promartyr of our cause, + Die: yet I blame you not so much for fear: + Six thousand years of fear have made you that + From which I would redeem you: but for those + That stir this hubbub--you and you--I know + Your faces there in the crowd--tomorrow morn + We hold a great convention: then shall they + That love their voices more than duty, learn + With whom they deal, dismissed in shame to live + No wiser than their mothers, household stuff, + Live chattels, mincers of each other's fame, + Full of weak poison, turnspits for the clown, + The drunkard's football, laughing-stocks of Time, + Whose brains are in their hands and in their heels + But fit to flaunt, to dress, to dance, to thrum, + To tramp, to scream, to burnish, and to scour, + For ever slaves at home and fools abroad.' + + She, ending, waved her hands: thereat the crowd + Muttering, dissolved: then with a smile, that looked + A stroke of cruel sunshine on the cliff, + When all the glens are drowned in azure gloom + Of thunder-shower, she floated to us and said: + + 'You have done well and like a gentleman, + And like a prince: you have our thanks for all: + And you look well too in your woman's dress: + Well have you done and like a gentleman. + You saved our life: we owe you bitter thanks: + Better have died and spilt our bones in the flood-- + Then men had said--but now--What hinders me + To take such bloody vengeance on you both?-- + Yet since our father--Wasps in our good hive, + You would-be quenchers of the light to be, + Barbarians, grosser than your native bears-- + O would I had his sceptre for one hour! + You that have dared to break our bound, and gulled + Our servants, wronged and lied and thwarted us-- + _I_ wed with thee! _I_ bound by precontract + Your bride, our bondslave! not though all the gold + That veins the world were packed to make your crown, + And every spoken tongue should lord you. Sir, + Your falsehood and yourself are hateful to us: + I trample on your offers and on you: + Begone: we will not look upon you more. + Here, push them out at gates.' + In wrath she spake. + Then those eight mighty daughters of the plough + Bent their broad faces toward us and addressed + Their motion: twice I sought to plead my cause, + But on my shoulder hung their heavy hands, + The weight of destiny: so from her face + They pushed us, down the steps, and through the court, + And with grim laughter thrust us out at gates. + + We crossed the street and gained a petty mound + Beyond it, whence we saw the lights and heard the voices murmuring. + While I listened, came + On a sudden the weird seizure and the doubt: + I seemed to move among a world of ghosts; + The Princess with her monstrous woman-guard, + The jest and earnest working side by side, + The cataract and the tumult and the kings + Were shadows; and the long fantastic night + With all its doings had and had not been, + And all things were and were not. + This went by + As strangely as it came, and on my spirits + Settled a gentle cloud of melancholy; + Not long; I shook it off; for spite of doubts + And sudden ghostly shadowings I was one + To whom the touch of all mischance but came + As night to him that sitting on a hill + Sees the midsummer, midnight, Norway sun + Set into sunrise; then we moved away. + + + Thy voice is heard through rolling drums, + That beat to battle where he stands; + Thy face across his fancy comes, + And gives the battle to his hands: + A moment, while the trumpets blow, + He sees his brood about thy knee; + The next, like fire he meets the foe, + And strikes him dead for thine and thee. + + + So Lilia sang: we thought her half-possessed, + She struck such warbling fury through the words; + And, after, feigning pique at what she called + The raillery, or grotesque, or false sublime-- + Like one that wishes at a dance to change + The music--clapt her hands and cried for war, + Or some grand fight to kill and make an end: + And he that next inherited the tale + Half turning to the broken statue, said, + 'Sir Ralph has got your colours: if I prove + Your knight, and fight your battle, what for me?' + It chanced, her empty glove upon the tomb + Lay by her like a model of her hand. + She took it and she flung it. 'Fight' she said, + 'And make us all we would be, great and good.' + He knightlike in his cap instead of casque, + A cap of Tyrol borrowed from the hall, + Arranged the favour, and assumed the Prince. + + + + +V + + + + Now, scarce three paces measured from the mound, + We stumbled on a stationary voice, + And 'Stand, who goes?' 'Two from the palace' I. + 'The second two: they wait,' he said, 'pass on; + His Highness wakes:' and one, that clashed in arms, + By glimmering lanes and walls of canvas led + Threading the soldier-city, till we heard + The drowsy folds of our great ensign shake + From blazoned lions o'er the imperial tent + Whispers of war. + Entering, the sudden light + Dazed me half-blind: I stood and seemed to hear, + As in a poplar grove when a light wind wakes + A lisping of the innumerous leaf and dies, + Each hissing in his neighbour's ear; and then + A strangled titter, out of which there brake + On all sides, clamouring etiquette to death, + Unmeasured mirth; while now the two old kings + Began to wag their baldness up and down, + The fresh young captains flashed their glittering teeth, + The huge bush-bearded Barons heaved and blew, + And slain with laughter rolled the gilded Squire. + + At length my Sire, his rough cheek wet with tears, + Panted from weary sides 'King, you are free! + We did but keep you surety for our son, + If this be he,--or a dragged mawkin, thou, + That tends to her bristled grunters in the sludge:' + For I was drenched with ooze, and torn with briers, + More crumpled than a poppy from the sheath, + And all one rag, disprinced from head to heel. + Then some one sent beneath his vaulted palm + A whispered jest to some one near him, 'Look, + He has been among his shadows.' 'Satan take + The old women and their shadows! (thus the King + Roared) make yourself a man to fight with men. + Go: Cyril told us all.' + As boys that slink + From ferule and the trespass-chiding eye, + Away we stole, and transient in a trice + From what was left of faded woman-slough + To sheathing splendours and the golden scale + Of harness, issued in the sun, that now + Leapt from the dewy shoulders of the Earth, + And hit the Northern hills. Here Cyril met us. + A little shy at first, but by and by + We twain, with mutual pardon asked and given + For stroke and song, resoldered peace, whereon + Followed his tale. Amazed he fled away + Through the dark land, and later in the night + Had come on Psyche weeping: 'then we fell + Into your father's hand, and there she lies, + But will not speak, or stir.' + He showed a tent + A stone-shot off: we entered in, and there + Among piled arms and rough accoutrements, + Pitiful sight, wrapped in a soldier's cloak, + Like some sweet sculpture draped from head to foot, + And pushed by rude hands from its pedestal, + All her fair length upon the ground she lay: + And at her head a follower of the camp, + A charred and wrinkled piece of womanhood, + Sat watching like the watcher by the dead. + + Then Florian knelt, and 'Come' he whispered to her, + 'Lift up your head, sweet sister: lie not thus. + What have you done but right? you could not slay + Me, nor your prince: look up: be comforted: + Sweet is it to have done the thing one ought, + When fallen in darker ways.' And likewise I: + 'Be comforted: have I not lost her too, + In whose least act abides the nameless charm + That none has else for me?' She heard, she moved, + She moaned, a folded voice; and up she sat, + And raised the cloak from brows as pale and smooth + As those that mourn half-shrouded over death + In deathless marble. 'Her,' she said, 'my friend-- + Parted from her--betrayed her cause and mine-- + Where shall I breathe? why kept ye not your faith? + O base and bad! what comfort? none for me!' + To whom remorseful Cyril, 'Yet I pray + Take comfort: live, dear lady, for your child!' + At which she lifted up her voice and cried. + + 'Ah me, my babe, my blossom, ah, my child, + My one sweet child, whom I shall see no more! + For now will cruel Ida keep her back; + And either she will die from want of care, + Or sicken with ill-usage, when they say + The child is hers--for every little fault, + The child is hers; and they will beat my girl + Remembering her mother: O my flower! + Or they will take her, they will make her hard, + And she will pass me by in after-life + With some cold reverence worse than were she dead. + Ill mother that I was to leave her there, + To lag behind, scared by the cry they made, + The horror of the shame among them all: + But I will go and sit beside the doors, + And make a wild petition night and day, + Until they hate to hear me like a wind + Wailing for ever, till they open to me, + And lay my little blossom at my feet, + My babe, my sweet Aglaia, my one child: + And I will take her up and go my way, + And satisfy my soul with kissing her: + Ah! what might that man not deserve of me + Who gave me back my child?' 'Be comforted,' + Said Cyril, 'you shall have it:' but again + She veiled her brows, and prone she sank, and so + Like tender things that being caught feign death, + Spoke not, nor stirred. + By this a murmur ran + Through all the camp and inward raced the scouts + With rumour of Prince Arab hard at hand. + We left her by the woman, and without + Found the gray kings at parle: and 'Look you' cried + My father 'that our compact be fulfilled: + You have spoilt this child; she laughs at you and man: + She wrongs herself, her sex, and me, and him: + But red-faced war has rods of steel and fire; + She yields, or war.' + Then Gama turned to me: + 'We fear, indeed, you spent a stormy time + With our strange girl: and yet they say that still + You love her. Give us, then, your mind at large: + How say you, war or not?' + 'Not war, if possible, + O king,' I said, 'lest from the abuse of war, + The desecrated shrine, the trampled year, + The smouldering homestead, and the household flower + Torn from the lintel--all the common wrong-- + A smoke go up through which I loom to her + Three times a monster: now she lightens scorn + At him that mars her plan, but then would hate + (And every voice she talked with ratify it, + And every face she looked on justify it) + The general foe. More soluble is this knot, + By gentleness than war. I want her love. + What were I nigher this although we dashed + Your cities into shards with catapults, + She would not love;--or brought her chained, a slave, + The lifting of whose eyelash is my lord, + Not ever would she love; but brooding turn + The book of scorn, till all my flitting chance + Were caught within the record of her wrongs, + And crushed to death: and rather, Sire, than this + I would the old God of war himself were dead, + Forgotten, rusting on his iron hills, + Rotting on some wild shore with ribs of wreck, + Or like an old-world mammoth bulked in ice, + Not to be molten out.' + And roughly spake + My father, 'Tut, you know them not, the girls. + Boy, when I hear you prate I almost think + That idiot legend credible. Look you, Sir! + Man is the hunter; woman is his game: + The sleek and shining creatures of the chase, + We hunt them for the beauty of their skins; + They love us for it, and we ride them down. + Wheedling and siding with them! Out! for shame! + Boy, there's no rose that's half so dear to them + As he that does the thing they dare not do, + Breathing and sounding beauteous battle, comes + With the air of the trumpet round him, and leaps in + Among the women, snares them by the score + Flattered and flustered, wins, though dashed with death + He reddens what he kisses: thus I won + You mother, a good mother, a good wife, + Worth winning; but this firebrand--gentleness + To such as her! if Cyril spake her true, + To catch a dragon in a cherry net, + To trip a tigress with a gossamer + Were wisdom to it.' + 'Yea but Sire,' I cried, + 'Wild natures need wise curbs. The soldier? No: + What dares not Ida do that she should prize + The soldier? I beheld her, when she rose + The yesternight, and storming in extremes, + Stood for her cause, and flung defiance down + Gagelike to man, and had not shunned the death, + No, not the soldier's: yet I hold her, king, + True woman: you clash them all in one, + That have as many differences as we. + The violet varies from the lily as far + As oak from elm: one loves the soldier, one + The silken priest of peace, one this, one that, + And some unworthily; their sinless faith, + A maiden moon that sparkles on a sty, + Glorifying clown and satyr; whence they need + More breadth of culture: is not Ida right? + They worth it? truer to the law within? + Severer in the logic of a life? + Twice as magnetic to sweet influences + Of earth and heaven? and she of whom you speak, + My mother, looks as whole as some serene + Creation minted in the golden moods + Of sovereign artists; not a thought, a touch, + But pure as lines of green that streak the white + Of the first snowdrop's inner leaves; I say, + Not like the piebald miscellany, man, + Bursts of great heart and slips in sensual mire, + But whole and one: and take them all-in-all, + Were we ourselves but half as good, as kind, + As truthful, much that Ida claims as right + Had ne'er been mooted, but as frankly theirs + As dues of Nature. To our point: not war: + Lest I lose all.' + 'Nay, nay, you spake but sense' + Said Gama. 'We remember love ourself + In our sweet youth; we did not rate him then + This red-hot iron to be shaped with blows. + You talk almost like Ida: _she_ can talk; + And there is something in it as you say: + But you talk kindlier: we esteem you for it.-- + He seems a gracious and a gallant Prince, + I would he had our daughter: for the rest, + Our own detention, why, the causes weighed, + Fatherly fears--you used us courteously-- + We would do much to gratify your Prince-- + We pardon it; and for your ingress here + Upon the skirt and fringe of our fair land, + you did but come as goblins in the night, + Nor in the furrow broke the ploughman's head, + Nor burnt the grange, nor bussed the milking-maid, + Nor robbed the farmer of his bowl of cream: + But let your Prince (our royal word upon it, + He comes back safe) ride with us to our lines, + And speak with Arac: Arac's word is thrice + As ours with Ida: something may be done-- + I know not what--and ours shall see us friends. + You, likewise, our late guests, if so you will, + Follow us: who knows? we four may build some plan + Foursquare to opposition.' + Here he reached + White hands of farewell to my sire, who growled + An answer which, half-muffled in his beard, + Let so much out as gave us leave to go. + + Then rode we with the old king across the lawns + Beneath huge trees, a thousand rings of Spring + In every bole, a song on every spray + Of birds that piped their Valentines, and woke + Desire in me to infuse my tale of love + In the old king's ears, who promised help, and oozed + All o'er with honeyed answer as we rode + And blossom-fragrant slipt the heavy dews + Gathered by night and peace, with each light air + On our mailed heads: but other thoughts than Peace + Burnt in us, when we saw the embattled squares, + And squadrons of the Prince, trampling the flowers + With clamour: for among them rose a cry + As if to greet the king; they made a halt; + The horses yelled; they clashed their arms; the drum + Beat; merrily-blowing shrilled the martial fife; + And in the blast and bray of the long horn + And serpent-throated bugle, undulated + The banner: anon to meet us lightly pranced + Three captains out; nor ever had I seen + Such thews of men: the midmost and the highest + Was Arac: all about his motion clung + The shadow of his sister, as the beam + Of the East, that played upon them, made them glance + Like those three stars of the airy Giant's zone, + That glitter burnished by the frosty dark; + And as the fiery Sirius alters hue, + And bickers into red and emerald, shone + Their morions, washed with morning, as they came. + + And I that prated peace, when first I heard + War-music, felt the blind wildbeast of force, + Whose home is in the sinews of a man, + Stir in me as to strike: then took the king + His three broad sons; with now a wandering hand + And now a pointed finger, told them all: + A common light of smiles at our disguise + Broke from their lips, and, ere the windy jest + Had laboured down within his ample lungs, + The genial giant, Arac, rolled himself + Thrice in the saddle, then burst out in words. + + 'Our land invaded, 'sdeath! and he himself + Your captive, yet my father wills not war: + And, 'sdeath! myself, what care I, war or no? + but then this question of your troth remains: + And there's a downright honest meaning in her; + She flies too high, she flies too high! and yet + She asked but space and fairplay for her scheme; + She prest and prest it on me--I myself, + What know I of these things? but, life and soul! + I thought her half-right talking of her wrongs; + I say she flies too high, 'sdeath! what of that? + I take her for the flower of womankind, + And so I often told her, right or wrong, + And, Prince, she can be sweet to those she loves, + And, right or wrong, I care not: this is all, + I stand upon her side: she made me swear it-- + 'Sdeath--and with solemn rites by candle-light-- + Swear by St something--I forget her name-- + Her that talked down the fifty wisest men; + _She_ was a princess too; and so I swore. + Come, this is all; she will not: waive your claim: + If not, the foughten field, what else, at once + Decides it, 'sdeath! against my father's will.' + + I lagged in answer loth to render up + My precontract, and loth by brainless war + To cleave the rift of difference deeper yet; + Till one of those two brothers, half aside + And fingering at the hair about his lip, + To prick us on to combat 'Like to like! + The woman's garment hid the woman's heart.' + A taunt that clenched his purpose like a blow! + For fiery-short was Cyril's counter-scoff, + And sharp I answered, touched upon the point + Where idle boys are cowards to their shame, + 'Decide it here: why not? we are three to three.' + + Then spake the third 'But three to three? no more? + No more, and in our noble sister's cause? + More, more, for honour: every captain waits + Hungry for honour, angry for his king. + More, more some fifty on a side, that each + May breathe himself, and quick! by overthrow + Of these or those, the question settled die.' + + 'Yea,' answered I, 'for this wreath of air, + This flake of rainbow flying on the highest + Foam of men's deeds--this honour, if ye will. + It needs must be for honour if at all: + Since, what decision? if we fail, we fail, + And if we win, we fail: she would not keep + Her compact.' ''Sdeath! but we will send to her,' + Said Arac, 'worthy reasons why she should + Bide by this issue: let our missive through, + And you shall have her answer by the word.' + + 'Boys!' shrieked the old king, but vainlier than a hen + To her false daughters in the pool; for none + Regarded; neither seemed there more to say: + Back rode we to my father's camp, and found + He thrice had sent a herald to the gates, + To learn if Ida yet would cede our claim, + Or by denial flush her babbling wells + With her own people's life: three times he went: + The first, he blew and blew, but none appeared: + He battered at the doors; none came: the next, + An awful voice within had warned him thence: + The third, and those eight daughters of the plough + Came sallying through the gates, and caught his hair, + And so belaboured him on rib and cheek + They made him wild: not less one glance he caught + Through open doors of Ida stationed there + Unshaken, clinging to her purpose, firm + Though compassed by two armies and the noise + Of arms; and standing like a stately Pine + Set in a cataract on an island-crag, + When storm is on the heights, and right and left + Sucked from the dark heart of the long hills roll + The torrents, dashed to the vale: and yet her will + Bred will in me to overcome it or fall. + + But when I told the king that I was pledged + To fight in tourney for my bride, he clashed + His iron palms together with a cry; + Himself would tilt it out among the lads: + But overborne by all his bearded lords + With reasons drawn from age and state, perforce + He yielded, wroth and red, with fierce demur: + And many a bold knight started up in heat, + And sware to combat for my claim till death. + + All on this side the palace ran the field + Flat to the garden-wall: and likewise here, + Above the garden's glowing blossom-belts, + A columned entry shone and marble stairs, + And great bronze valves, embossed with Tomyris + And what she did to Cyrus after fight, + But now fast barred: so here upon the flat + All that long morn the lists were hammered up, + And all that morn the heralds to and fro, + With message and defiance, went and came; + Last, Ida's answer, in a royal hand, + But shaken here and there, and rolling words + Oration-like. I kissed it and I read. + + 'O brother, you have known the pangs we felt, + What heats of indignation when we heard + Of those that iron-cramped their women's feet; + Of lands in which at the altar the poor bride + Gives her harsh groom for bridal-gift a scourge; + Of living hearts that crack within the fire + Where smoulder their dead despots; and of those,-- + Mothers,--that, with all prophetic pity, fling + Their pretty maids in the running flood, and swoops + The vulture, beak and talon, at the heart + Made for all noble motion: and I saw + That equal baseness lived in sleeker times + With smoother men: the old leaven leavened all: + Millions of throats would bawl for civil rights, + No woman named: therefore I set my face + Against all men, and lived but for mine own. + Far off from men I built a fold for them: + I stored it full of rich memorial: + I fenced it round with gallant institutes, + And biting laws to scare the beasts of prey + And prospered; till a rout of saucy boys + Brake on us at our books, and marred our peace, + Masked like our maids, blustering I know not what + Of insolence and love, some pretext held + Of baby troth, invalid, since my will + Sealed not the bond--the striplings! for their sport!-- + I tamed my leopards: shall I not tame these? + Or you? or I? for since you think me touched + In honour--what, I would not aught of false-- + Is not our case pure? and whereas I know + Your prowess, Arac, and what mother's blood + You draw from, fight; you failing, I abide + What end soever: fail you will not. Still + Take not his life: he risked it for my own; + His mother lives: yet whatsoe'er you do, + Fight and fight well; strike and strike him. O dear + Brothers, the woman's Angel guards you, you + The sole men to be mingled with our cause, + The sole men we shall prize in the after-time, + Your very armour hallowed, and your statues + Reared, sung to, when, this gad-fly brushed aside, + We plant a solid foot into the Time, + And mould a generation strong to move + With claim on claim from right to right, till she + Whose name is yoked with children's, know herself; + And Knowledge in our own land make her free, + And, ever following those two crowned twins, + Commerce and conquest, shower the fiery grain + Of freedom broadcast over all the orbs + Between the Northern and the Southern morn.' + + Then came a postscript dashed across the rest. + See that there be no traitors in your camp: + We seem a nest of traitors--none to trust + Since our arms failed--this Egypt-plague of men! + Almost our maids were better at their homes, + Than thus man-girdled here: indeed I think + Our chiefest comfort is the little child + Of one unworthy mother; which she left: + She shall not have it back: the child shall grow + To prize the authentic mother of her mind. + I took it for an hour in mine own bed + This morning: there the tender orphan hands + Felt at my heart, and seemed to charm from thence + The wrath I nursed against the world: farewell.' + + I ceased; he said, 'Stubborn, but she may sit + Upon a king's right hand in thunder-storms, + And breed up warriors! See now, though yourself + Be dazzled by the wildfire Love to sloughs + That swallow common sense, the spindling king, + This Gama swamped in lazy tolerance. + When the man wants weight, the woman takes it up, + And topples down the scales; but this is fixt + As are the roots of earth and base of all; + Man for the field and woman for the hearth: + Man for the sword and for the needle she: + Man with the head and woman with the heart: + Man to command and woman to obey; + All else confusion. Look you! the gray mare + Is ill to live with, when her whinny shrills + From tile to scullery, and her small goodman + Shrinks in his arm-chair while the fires of Hell + Mix with his hearth: but you--she's yet a colt-- + Take, break her: strongly groomed and straitly curbed + She might not rank with those detestable + That let the bantling scald at home, and brawl + Their rights and wrongs like potherbs in the street. + They say she's comely; there's the fairer chance: + _I_ like her none the less for rating at her! + Besides, the woman wed is not as we, + But suffers change of frame. A lusty brace + Of twins may weed her of her folly. Boy, + The bearing and the training of a child + Is woman's wisdom.' + Thus the hard old king: + I took my leave, for it was nearly noon: + I pored upon her letter which I held, + And on the little clause 'take not his life:' + I mused on that wild morning in the woods, + And on the 'Follow, follow, thou shalt win:' + I thought on all the wrathful king had said, + And how the strange betrothment was to end: + Then I remembered that burnt sorcerer's curse + That one should fight with shadows and should fall; + And like a flash the weird affection came: + King, camp and college turned to hollow shows; + I seemed to move in old memorial tilts, + And doing battle with forgotten ghosts, + To dream myself the shadow of a dream: + And ere I woke it was the point of noon, + The lists were ready. Empanoplied and plumed + We entered in, and waited, fifty there + Opposed to fifty, till the trumpet blared + At the barrier like a wild horn in a land + Of echoes, and a moment, and once more + The trumpet, and again: at which the storm + Of galloping hoofs bare on the ridge of spears + And riders front to front, until they closed + In conflict with the crash of shivering points, + And thunder. Yet it seemed a dream, I dreamed + Of fighting. On his haunches rose the steed, + And into fiery splinters leapt the lance, + And out of stricken helmets sprang the fire. + Part sat like rocks: part reeled but kept their seats: + Part rolled on the earth and rose again and drew: + Part stumbled mixt with floundering horses. Down + From those two bulks at Arac's side, and down + From Arac's arm, as from a giant's flail, + The large blows rained, as here and everywhere + He rode the mellay, lord of the ringing lists, + And all the plain,--brand, mace, and shaft, and shield-- + Shocked, like an iron-clanging anvil banged + With hammers; till I thought, can this be he + From Gama's dwarfish loins? if this be so, + The mother makes us most--and in my dream + I glanced aside, and saw the palace-front + Alive with fluttering scarfs and ladies' eyes, + And highest, among the statues, statuelike, + Between a cymballed Miriam and a Jael, + With Psyche's babe, was Ida watching us, + A single band of gold about her hair, + Like a Saint's glory up in heaven: but she + No saint--inexorable--no tenderness-- + Too hard, too cruel: yet she sees me fight, + Yea, let her see me fall! and with that I drave + Among the thickest and bore down a Prince, + And Cyril, one. Yea, let me make my dream + All that I would. But that large-moulded man, + His visage all agrin as at a wake, + Made at me through the press, and, staggering back + With stroke on stroke the horse and horseman, came + As comes a pillar of electric cloud, + Flaying the roofs and sucking up the drains, + And shadowing down the champaign till it strikes + On a wood, and takes, and breaks, and cracks, and splits, + And twists the grain with such a roar that Earth + Reels, and the herdsmen cry; for everything + Game way before him: only Florian, he + That loved me closer than his own right eye, + Thrust in between; but Arac rode him down: + And Cyril seeing it, pushed against the Prince, + With Psyche's colour round his helmet, tough, + Strong, supple, sinew-corded, apt at arms; + But tougher, heavier, stronger, he that smote + And threw him: last I spurred; I felt my veins + Stretch with fierce heat; a moment hand to hand, + And sword to sword, and horse to horse we hung, + Till I struck out and shouted; the blade glanced, + I did but shear a feather, and dream and truth + Flowed from me; darkness closed me; and I fell. + + + Home they brought her warrior dead: + She nor swooned, nor uttered cry: + All her maidens, watching, said, + 'She must weep or she will die.' + + Then they praised him, soft and low, + Called him worthy to be loved, + Truest friend and noblest foe; + Yet she neither spoke nor moved. + + Stole a maiden from her place, + Lightly to the warrior stept, + Took the face-cloth from the face; + Yet she neither moved nor wept. + + Rose a nurse of ninety years, + Set his child upon her knee-- + Like summer tempest came her tears-- + 'Sweet my child, I live for thee.' + + + + +VI + + + + My dream had never died or lived again. + As in some mystic middle state I lay; + Seeing I saw not, hearing not I heard: + Though, if I saw not, yet they told me all + So often that I speak as having seen. + + For so it seemed, or so they said to me, + That all things grew more tragic and more strange; + That when our side was vanquished and my cause + For ever lost, there went up a great cry, + The Prince is slain. My father heard and ran + In on the lists, and there unlaced my casque + And grovelled on my body, and after him + Came Psyche, sorrowing for Aglaia. + But high upon the palace Ida stood + With Psyche's babe in arm: there on the roofs + Like that great dame of Lapidoth she sang. + + + 'Our enemies have fallen, have fallen: the seed, + The little seed they laughed at in the dark, + Has risen and cleft the soil, and grown a bulk + Of spanless girth, that lays on every side + A thousand arms and rushes to the Sun. + + 'Our enemies have fallen, have fallen: they came; + The leaves were wet with women's tears: they heard + A noise of songs they would not understand: + They marked it with the red cross to the fall, + And would have strown it, and are fallen themselves. + + 'Our enemies have fallen, have fallen: they came, + The woodmen with their axes: lo the tree! + But we will make it faggots for the hearth, + And shape it plank and beam for roof and floor, + And boats and bridges for the use of men. + + 'Our enemies have fallen, have fallen: they struck; + With their own blows they hurt themselves, nor knew + There dwelt an iron nature in the grain: + The glittering axe was broken in their arms, + Their arms were shattered to the shoulder blade. + + 'Our enemies have fallen, but this shall grow + A night of Summer from the heat, a breadth + Of Autumn, dropping fruits of power: and rolled + With music in the growing breeze of Time, + The tops shall strike from star to star, the fangs + Shall move the stony bases of the world. + + 'And now, O maids, behold our sanctuary + Is violate, our laws broken: fear we not + To break them more in their behoof, whose arms + Championed our cause and won it with a day + Blanched in our annals, and perpetual feast, + When dames and heroines of the golden year + Shall strip a hundred hollows bare of Spring, + To rain an April of ovation round + Their statues, borne aloft, the three: but come, + We will be liberal, since our rights are won. + Let them not lie in the tents with coarse mankind, + Ill nurses; but descend, and proffer these + The brethren of our blood and cause, that there + Lie bruised and maimed, the tender ministries + Of female hands and hospitality.' + + She spoke, and with the babe yet in her arms, + Descending, burst the great bronze valves, and led + A hundred maids in train across the Park. + Some cowled, and some bare-headed, on they came, + Their feet in flowers, her loveliest: by them went + The enamoured air sighing, and on their curls + From the high tree the blossom wavering fell, + And over them the tremulous isles of light + Slided, they moving under shade: but Blanche + At distance followed: so they came: anon + Through open field into the lists they wound + Timorously; and as the leader of the herd + That holds a stately fretwork to the Sun, + And followed up by a hundred airy does, + Steps with a tender foot, light as on air, + The lovely, lordly creature floated on + To where her wounded brethren lay; there stayed; + Knelt on one knee,--the child on one,--and prest + Their hands, and called them dear deliverers, + And happy warriors, and immortal names, + And said 'You shall not lie in the tents but here, + And nursed by those for whom you fought, and served + With female hands and hospitality.' + + Then, whether moved by this, or was it chance, + She past my way. Up started from my side + The old lion, glaring with his whelpless eye, + Silent; but when she saw me lying stark, + Dishelmed and mute, and motionlessly pale, + Cold even to her, she sighed; and when she saw + The haggard father's face and reverend beard + Of grisly twine, all dabbled with the blood + Of his own son, shuddered, a twitch of pain + Tortured her mouth, and o'er her forehead past + A shadow, and her hue changed, and she said: + 'He saved my life: my brother slew him for it.' + No more: at which the king in bitter scorn + Drew from my neck the painting and the tress, + And held them up: she saw them, and a day + Rose from the distance on her memory, + When the good Queen, her mother, shore the tress + With kisses, ere the days of Lady Blanche: + And then once more she looked at my pale face: + Till understanding all the foolish work + Of Fancy, and the bitter close of all, + Her iron will was broken in her mind; + Her noble heart was molten in her breast; + She bowed, she set the child on the earth; she laid + A feeling finger on my brows, and presently + 'O Sire,' she said, 'he lives: he is not dead: + O let me have him with my brethren here + In our own palace: we will tend on him + Like one of these; if so, by any means, + To lighten this great clog of thanks, that make + Our progress falter to the woman's goal.' + + She said: but at the happy word 'he lives' + My father stooped, re-fathered o'er my wounds. + So those two foes above my fallen life, + With brow to brow like night and evening mixt + Their dark and gray, while Psyche ever stole + A little nearer, till the babe that by us, + Half-lapt in glowing gauze and golden brede, + Lay like a new-fallen meteor on the grass, + Uncared for, spied its mother and began + A blind and babbling laughter, and to dance + Its body, and reach its fatling innocent arms + And lazy lingering fingers. She the appeal + Brooked not, but clamouring out 'Mine--mine--not yours, + It is not yours, but mine: give me the child' + Ceased all on tremble: piteous was the cry: + So stood the unhappy mother open-mouthed, + And turned each face her way: wan was her cheek + With hollow watch, her blooming mantle torn, + Red grief and mother's hunger in her eye, + And down dead-heavy sank her curls, and half + The sacred mother's bosom, panting, burst + The laces toward her babe; but she nor cared + Nor knew it, clamouring on, till Ida heard, + Looked up, and rising slowly from me, stood + Erect and silent, striking with her glance + The mother, me, the child; but he that lay + Beside us, Cyril, battered as he was, + Trailed himself up on one knee: then he drew + Her robe to meet his lips, and down she looked + At the armed man sideways, pitying as it seemed, + Or self-involved; but when she learnt his face, + Remembering his ill-omened song, arose + Once more through all her height, and o'er him grew + Tall as a figure lengthened on the sand + When the tide ebbs in sunshine, and he said: + + 'O fair and strong and terrible! Lioness + That with your long locks play the Lion's mane! + But Love and Nature, these are two more terrible + And stronger. See, your foot is on our necks, + We vanquished, you the Victor of your will. + What would you more? Give her the child! remain + Orbed in your isolation: he is dead, + Or all as dead: henceforth we let you be: + Win you the hearts of women; and beware + Lest, where you seek the common love of these, + The common hate with the revolving wheel + Should drag you down, and some great Nemesis + Break from a darkened future, crowned with fire, + And tread you out for ever: but howso'er + Fixed in yourself, never in your own arms + To hold your own, deny not hers to her, + Give her the child! O if, I say, you keep + One pulse that beats true woman, if you loved + The breast that fed or arm that dandled you, + Or own one port of sense not flint to prayer, + Give her the child! or if you scorn to lay it, + Yourself, in hands so lately claspt with yours, + Or speak to her, your dearest, her one fault, + The tenderness, not yours, that could not kill, + Give _me_ it: _I_ will give it her. + He said: + At first her eye with slow dilation rolled + Dry flame, she listening; after sank and sank + And, into mournful twilight mellowing, dwelt + Full on the child; she took it: 'Pretty bud! + Lily of the vale! half opened bell of the woods! + Sole comfort of my dark hour, when a world + Of traitorous friend and broken system made + No purple in the distance, mystery, + Pledge of a love not to be mine, farewell; + These men are hard upon us as of old, + We two must part: and yet how fain was I + To dream thy cause embraced in mine, to think + I might be something to thee, when I felt + Thy helpless warmth about my barren breast + In the dead prime: but may thy mother prove + As true to thee as false, false, false to me! + And, if thou needs must needs bear the yoke, I wish it + Gentle as freedom'--here she kissed it: then-- + 'All good go with thee! take it Sir,' and so + Laid the soft babe in his hard-mailed hands, + Who turned half-round to Psyche as she sprang + To meet it, with an eye that swum in thanks; + Then felt it sound and whole from head to foot, + And hugged and never hugged it close enough, + And in her hunger mouthed and mumbled it, + And hid her bosom with it; after that + Put on more calm and added suppliantly: + + 'We two were friends: I go to mine own land + For ever: find some other: as for me + I scarce am fit for your great plans: yet speak to me, + Say one soft word and let me part forgiven.' + + But Ida spoke not, rapt upon the child. + Then Arac. 'Ida--'sdeath! you blame the man; + You wrong yourselves--the woman is so hard + Upon the woman. Come, a grace to me! + I am your warrior: I and mine have fought + Your battle: kiss her; take her hand, she weeps: + 'Sdeath! I would sooner fight thrice o'er than see it.' + + But Ida spoke not, gazing on the ground, + And reddening in the furrows of his chin, + And moved beyond his custom, Gama said: + + 'I've heard that there is iron in the blood, + And I believe it. Not one word? not one? + Whence drew you this steel temper? not from me, + Not from your mother, now a saint with saints. + She said you had a heart--I heard her say it-- + "Our Ida has a heart"--just ere she died-- + "But see that some on with authority + Be near her still" and I--I sought for one-- + All people said she had authority-- + The Lady Blanche: much profit! Not one word; + No! though your father sues: see how you stand + Stiff as Lot's wife, and all the good knights maimed, + I trust that there is no one hurt to death, + For our wild whim: and was it then for this, + Was it for this we gave our palace up, + Where we withdrew from summer heats and state, + And had our wine and chess beneath the planes, + And many a pleasant hour with her that's gone, + Ere you were born to vex us? Is it kind? + Speak to her I say: is this not she of whom, + When first she came, all flushed you said to me + Now had you got a friend of your own age, + Now could you share your thought; now should men see + Two women faster welded in one love + Than pairs of wedlock; she you walked with, she + You talked with, whole nights long, up in the tower, + Of sine and arc, spheroid and azimuth, + And right ascension, Heaven knows what; and now + A word, but one, one little kindly word, + Not one to spare her: out upon you, flint! + You love nor her, nor me, nor any; nay, + You shame your mother's judgment too. Not one? + You will not? well--no heart have you, or such + As fancies like the vermin in a nut + Have fretted all to dust and bitterness.' + So said the small king moved beyond his wont. + + But Ida stood nor spoke, drained of her force + By many a varying influence and so long. + Down through her limbs a drooping languor wept: + Her head a little bent; and on her mouth + A doubtful smile dwelt like a clouded moon + In a still water: then brake out my sire, + Lifted his grim head from my wounds. 'O you, + Woman, whom we thought woman even now, + And were half fooled to let you tend our son, + Because he might have wished it--but we see, + The accomplice of your madness unforgiven, + And think that you might mix his draught with death, + When your skies change again: the rougher hand + Is safer: on to the tents: take up the Prince.' + + He rose, and while each ear was pricked to attend + A tempest, through the cloud that dimmed her broke + A genial warmth and light once more, and shone + Through glittering drops on her sad friend. + 'Come hither. + O Psyche,' she cried out, 'embrace me, come, + Quick while I melt; make reconcilement sure + With one that cannot keep her mind an hour: + Come to the hollow hear they slander so! + Kiss and be friends, like children being chid! + _I_ seem no more: _I_ want forgiveness too: + I should have had to do with none but maids, + That have no links with men. Ah false but dear, + Dear traitor, too much loved, why?--why?--Yet see, + Before these kings we embrace you yet once more + With all forgiveness, all oblivion, + And trust, not love, you less. + And now, O sire, + Grant me your son, to nurse, to wait upon him, + Like mine own brother. For my debt to him, + This nightmare weight of gratitude, I know it; + Taunt me no more: yourself and yours shall have + Free adit; we will scatter all our maids + Till happier times each to her proper hearth: + What use to keep them here--now? grant my prayer. + Help, father, brother, help; speak to the king: + Thaw this male nature to some touch of that + Which kills me with myself, and drags me down + From my fixt height to mob me up with all + The soft and milky rabble of womankind, + Poor weakling even as they are.' + Passionate tears + Followed: the king replied not: Cyril said: + 'Your brother, Lady,--Florian,--ask for him + Of your great head--for he is wounded too-- + That you may tend upon him with the prince.' + 'Ay so,' said Ida with a bitter smile, + 'Our laws are broken: let him enter too.' + Then Violet, she that sang the mournful song, + And had a cousin tumbled on the plain, + Petitioned too for him. 'Ay so,' she said, + 'I stagger in the stream: I cannot keep + My heart an eddy from the brawling hour: + We break our laws with ease, but let it be.' + 'Ay so?' said Blanche: 'Amazed am I to her + Your Highness: but your Highness breaks with ease + The law your Highness did not make: 'twas I. + I had been wedded wife, I knew mankind, + And blocked them out; but these men came to woo + Your Highness--verily I think to win.' + + So she, and turned askance a wintry eye: + But Ida with a voice, that like a bell + Tolled by an earthquake in a trembling tower, + Rang ruin, answered full of grief and scorn. + + 'Fling our doors wide! all, all, not one, but all, + Not only he, but by my mother's soul, + Whatever man lies wounded, friend or foe, + Shall enter, if he will. Let our girls flit, + Till the storm die! but had you stood by us, + The roar that breaks the Pharos from his base + Had left us rock. She fain would sting us too, + But shall not. Pass, and mingle with your likes. + We brook no further insult but are gone.' + She turned; the very nape of her white neck + Was rosed with indignation: but the Prince + Her brother came; the king her father charmed + Her wounded soul with words: nor did mine own + Refuse her proffer, lastly gave his hand. + + Then us they lifted up, dead weights, and bare + Straight to the doors: to them the doors gave way + Groaning, and in the Vestal entry shrieked + The virgin marble under iron heels: + And on they moved and gained the hall, and there + Rested: but great the crush was, and each base, + To left and right, of those tall columns drowned + In silken fluctuation and the swarm + Of female whisperers: at the further end + Was Ida by the throne, the two great cats + Close by her, like supporters on a shield, + Bow-backed with fear: but in the centre stood + The common men with rolling eyes; amazed + They glared upon the women, and aghast + The women stared at these, all silent, save + When armour clashed or jingled, while the day, + Descending, struck athwart the hall, and shot + A flying splendour out of brass and steel, + That o'er the statues leapt from head to head, + Now fired an angry Pallas on the helm, + Now set a wrathful Dian's moon on flame, + And now and then an echo started up, + And shuddering fled from room to room, and died + Of fright in far apartments. + Then the voice + Of Ida sounded, issuing ordinance: + And me they bore up the broad stairs, and through + The long-laid galleries past a hundred doors + To one deep chamber shut from sound, and due + To languid limbs and sickness; left me in it; + And others otherwhere they laid; and all + That afternoon a sound arose of hoof + And chariot, many a maiden passing home + Till happier times; but some were left of those + Held sagest, and the great lords out and in, + From those two hosts that lay beside the walls, + Walked at their will, and everything was changed. + + + Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea; + The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape + With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape; + But O too fond, when have I answered thee? + Ask me no more. + + Ask me no more: what answer should I give? + I love not hollow cheek or faded eye: + Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die! + Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live; + Ask me no more. + + Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are sealed: + I strove against the stream and all in vain: + Let the great river take me to the main: + No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield; + Ask me no more. + + + + +VII + + + + So was their sanctuary violated, + So their fair college turned to hospital; + At first with all confusion: by and by + Sweet order lived again with other laws: + A kindlier influence reigned; and everywhere + Low voices with the ministering hand + Hung round the sick: the maidens came, they talked, + They sang, they read: till she not fair began + To gather light, and she that was, became + Her former beauty treble; and to and fro + With books, with flowers, with Angel offices, + Like creatures native unto gracious act, + And in their own clear element, they moved. + + But sadness on the soul of Ida fell, + And hatred of her weakness, blent with shame. + Old studies failed; seldom she spoke: but oft + Clomb to the roofs, and gazed alone for hours + On that disastrous leaguer, swarms of men + Darkening her female field: void was her use, + And she as one that climbs a peak to gaze + O'er land and main, and sees a great black cloud + Drag inward from the deeps, a wall of night, + Blot out the slope of sea from verge to shore, + And suck the blinding splendour from the sand, + And quenching lake by lake and tarn by tarn + Expunge the world: so fared she gazing there; + So blackened all her world in secret, blank + And waste it seemed and vain; till down she came, + And found fair peace once more among the sick. + + And twilight dawned; and morn by morn the lark + Shot up and shrilled in flickering gyres, but I + Lay silent in the muffled cage of life: + And twilight gloomed; and broader-grown the bowers + Drew the great night into themselves, and Heaven, + Star after Star, arose and fell; but I, + Deeper than those weird doubts could reach me, lay + Quite sundered from the moving Universe, + Nor knew what eye was on me, nor the hand + That nursed me, more than infants in their sleep. + + But Psyche tended Florian: with her oft, + Melissa came; for Blanche had gone, but left + Her child among us, willing she should keep + Court-favour: here and there the small bright head, + A light of healing, glanced about the couch, + Or through the parted silks the tender face + Peeped, shining in upon the wounded man + With blush and smile, a medicine in themselves + To wile the length from languorous hours, and draw + The sting from pain; nor seemed it strange that soon + He rose up whole, and those fair charities + Joined at her side; nor stranger seemed that hears + So gentle, so employed, should close in love, + Than when two dewdrops on the petals shake + To the same sweet air, and tremble deeper down, + And slip at once all-fragrant into one. + + Less prosperously the second suit obtained + At first with Psyche. Not though Blanche had sworn + That after that dark night among the fields + She needs must wed him for her own good name; + Not though he built upon the babe restored; + Nor though she liked him, yielded she, but feared + To incense the Head once more; till on a day + When Cyril pleaded, Ida came behind + Seen but of Psyche: on her foot she hung + A moment, and she heard, at which her face + A little flushed, and she past on; but each + Assumed from thence a half-consent involved + In stillness, plighted troth, and were at peace. + + Nor only these: Love in the sacred halls + Held carnival at will, and flying struck + With showers of random sweet on maid and man. + Nor did her father cease to press my claim, + Nor did mine own, now reconciled; nor yet + Did those twin-brothers, risen again and whole; + Nor Arac, satiate with his victory. + + But I lay still, and with me oft she sat: + Then came a change; for sometimes I would catch + Her hand in wild delirium, gripe it hard, + And fling it like a viper off, and shriek + 'You are not Ida;' clasp it once again, + And call her Ida, though I knew her not, + And call her sweet, as if in irony, + And call her hard and cold which seemed a truth: + And still she feared that I should lose my mind, + And often she believed that I should die: + Till out of long frustration of her care, + And pensive tendance in the all-weary noons, + And watches in the dead, the dark, when clocks + Throbbed thunder through the palace floors, or called + On flying Time from all their silver tongues-- + And out of memories of her kindlier days, + And sidelong glances at my father's grief, + And at the happy lovers heart in heart-- + And out of hauntings of my spoken love, + And lonely listenings to my muttered dream, + And often feeling of the helpless hands, + And wordless broodings on the wasted cheek-- + From all a closer interest flourished up, + Tenderness touch by touch, and last, to these, + Love, like an Alpine harebell hung with tears + By some cold morning glacier; frail at first + And feeble, all unconscious of itself, + But such as gathered colour day by day. + + Last I woke sane, but well-nigh close to death + For weakness: it was evening: silent light + Slept on the painted walls, wherein were wrought + Two grand designs; for on one side arose + The women up in wild revolt, and stormed + At the Oppian Law. Titanic shapes, they crammed + The forum, and half-crushed among the rest + A dwarf-like Cato cowered. On the other side + Hortensia spoke against the tax; behind, + A train of dames: by axe and eagle sat, + With all their foreheads drawn in Roman scowls, + And half the wolf's-milk curdled in their veins, + The fierce triumvirs; and before them paused + Hortensia pleading: angry was her face. + + I saw the forms: I knew not where I was: + They did but look like hollow shows; nor more + Sweet Ida: palm to palm she sat: the dew + Dwelt in her eyes, and softer all her shape + And rounder seemed: I moved: I sighed: a touch + Came round my wrist, and tears upon my hand: + Then all for languor and self-pity ran + Mine down my face, and with what life I had, + And like a flower that cannot all unfold, + So drenched it is with tempest, to the sun, + Yet, as it may, turns toward him, I on her + Fixt my faint eyes, and uttered whisperingly: + + 'If you be, what I think you, some sweet dream, + I would but ask you to fulfil yourself: + But if you be that Ida whom I knew, + I ask you nothing: only, if a dream, + Sweet dream, be perfect. I shall die tonight. + Stoop down and seem to kiss me ere I die.' + + I could no more, but lay like one in trance, + That hears his burial talked of by his friends, + And cannot speak, nor move, nor make one sign, + But lies and dreads his doom. She turned; she paused; + She stooped; and out of languor leapt a cry; + Leapt fiery Passion from the brinks of death; + And I believed that in the living world + My spirit closed with Ida's at the lips; + Till back I fell, and from mine arms she rose + Glowing all over noble shame; and all + Her falser self slipt from her like a robe, + And left her woman, lovelier in her mood + Than in her mould that other, when she came + From barren deeps to conquer all with love; + And down the streaming crystal dropt; and she + Far-fleeted by the purple island-sides, + Naked, a double light in air and wave, + To meet her Graces, where they decked her out + For worship without end; nor end of mine, + Stateliest, for thee! but mute she glided forth, + Nor glanced behind her, and I sank and slept, + Filled through and through with Love, a happy sleep. + + Deep in the night I woke: she, near me, held + A volume of the Poets of her land: + There to herself, all in low tones, she read. + + + 'Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; + Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; + Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font: + The fire-fly wakens: wake thou with me. + + Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, + And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. + + Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, + And all thy heart lies open unto me. + + Now lies the silent meteor on, and leaves + A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. + + Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, + And slips into the bosom of the lake: + So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip + Into my bosom and be lost in me.' + + + I heard her turn the page; she found a small + Sweet Idyl, and once more, as low, she read: + + + 'Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height: + What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang) + In height and cold, the splendour of the hills? + But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease + To glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine, + To sit a star upon the sparkling spire; + And come, for love is of the valley, come, + For love is of the valley, come thou down + And find him; by the happy threshold, he, + Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize, + Or red with spirted purple of the vats, + Or foxlike in the vine; nor cares to walk + With Death and Morning on the silver horns, + Nor wilt thou snare him in the white ravine, + Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice, + That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls + To roll the torrent out of dusky doors: + But follow; let the torrent dance thee down + To find him in the valley; let the wild + Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone, and leave + The monstrous ledges there to slope, and spill + Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke, + That like a broken purpose waste in air: + So waste not thou; but come; for all the vales + Await thee; azure pillars of the hearth + Arise to thee; the children call, and I + Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound, + Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; + Myriads of rivulets hurrying through the lawn, + The moan of doves in immemorial elms, + And murmuring of innumerable bees.' + + + So she low-toned; while with shut eyes I lay + Listening; then looked. Pale was the perfect face; + The bosom with long sighs laboured; and meek + Seemed the full lips, and mild the luminous eyes, + And the voice trembled and the hand. She said + Brokenly, that she knew it, she had failed + In sweet humility; had failed in all; + That all her labour was but as a block + Left in the quarry; but she still were loth, + She still were loth to yield herself to one + That wholly scorned to help their equal rights + Against the sons of men, and barbarous laws. + She prayed me not to judge their cause from her + That wronged it, sought far less for truth than power + In knowledge: something wild within her breast, + A greater than all knowledge, beat her down. + And she had nursed me there from week to week: + Much had she learnt in little time. In part + It was ill counsel had misled the girl + To vex true hearts: yet was she but a girl-- + 'Ah fool, and made myself a Queen of farce! + When comes another such? never, I think, + Till the Sun drop, dead, from the signs.' + Her voice + choked, and her forehead sank upon her hands, + And her great heart through all the faultful Past + Went sorrowing in a pause I dared not break; + Till notice of a change in the dark world + Was lispt about the acacias, and a bird, + That early woke to feed her little ones, + Sent from a dewy breast a cry for light: + She moved, and at her feet the volume fell. + + 'Blame not thyself too much,' I said, 'nor blame + Too much the sons of men and barbarous laws; + These were the rough ways of the world till now. + Henceforth thou hast a helper, me, that know + The woman's cause is man's: they rise or sink + Together, dwarfed or godlike, bond or free: + For she that out of Lethe scales with man + The shining steps of Nature, shares with man + His nights, his days, moves with him to one goal, + Stays all the fair young planet in her hands-- + If she be small, slight-natured, miserable, + How shall men grow? but work no more alone! + Our place is much: as far as in us lies + We two will serve them both in aiding her-- + Will clear away the parasitic forms + That seem to keep her up but drag her down-- + Will leave her space to burgeon out of all + Within her--let her make herself her own + To give or keep, to live and learn and be + All that not harms distinctive womanhood. + For woman is not undevelopt man, + But diverse: could we make her as the man, + Sweet Love were slain: his dearest bond is this, + Not like to like, but like in difference. + Yet in the long years liker must they grow; + The man be more of woman, she of man; + He gain in sweetness and in moral height, + Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world; + She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, + Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind; + Till at the last she set herself to man, + Like perfect music unto noble words; + And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time, + Sit side by side, full-summed in all their powers, + Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be, + Self-reverent each and reverencing each, + Distinct in individualities, + But like each other even as those who love. + Then comes the statelier Eden back to men: + Then reign the world's great bridals, chaste and calm: + Then springs the crowning race of humankind. + May these things be!' + Sighing she spoke 'I fear + They will not.' + 'Dear, but let us type them now + In our own lives, and this proud watchword rest + Of equal; seeing either sex alone + Is half itself, and in true marriage lies + Nor equal, nor unequal: each fulfils + Defect in each, and always thought in thought, + Purpose in purpose, will in will, they grow, + The single pure and perfect animal, + The two-celled heart beating, with one full stroke, + Life.' + And again sighing she spoke: 'A dream + That once was mind! what woman taught you this?' + + 'Alone,' I said, 'from earlier than I know, + Immersed in rich foreshadowings of the world, + I loved the woman: he, that doth not, lives + A drowning life, besotted in sweet self, + Or pines in sad experience worse than death, + Or keeps his winged affections clipt with crime: + Yet was there one through whom I loved her, one + Not learned, save in gracious household ways, + Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants, + No Angel, but a dearer being, all dipt + In Angel instincts, breathing Paradise, + Interpreter between the Gods and men, + Who looked all native to her place, and yet + On tiptoe seemed to touch upon a sphere + Too gross to tread, and all male minds perforce + Swayed to her from their orbits as they moved, + And girdled her with music. Happy he + With such a mother! faith in womankind + Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high + Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall + He shall not blind his soul with clay.' + 'But I,' + Said Ida, tremulously, 'so all unlike-- + It seems you love to cheat yourself with words: + This mother is your model. I have heard + of your strange doubts: they well might be: I seem + A mockery to my own self. Never, Prince; + You cannot love me.' + 'Nay but thee' I said + 'From yearlong poring on thy pictured eyes, + Ere seen I loved, and loved thee seen, and saw + Thee woman through the crust of iron moods + That masked thee from men's reverence up, and forced + Sweet love on pranks of saucy boyhood: now, + Given back to life, to life indeed, through thee, + Indeed I love: the new day comes, the light + Dearer for night, as dearer thou for faults + Lived over: lift thine eyes; my doubts are dead, + My haunting sense of hollow shows: the change, + This truthful change in thee has killed it. Dear, + Look up, and let thy nature strike on mine, + Like yonder morning on the blind half-world; + Approach and fear not; breathe upon my brows; + In that fine air I tremble, all the past + Melts mist-like into this bright hour, and this + Is morn to more, and all the rich to-come + Reels, as the golden Autumn woodland reels + Athwart the smoke of burning weeds. Forgive me, + I waste my heart in signs: let be. My bride, + My wife, my life. O we will walk this world, + Yoked in all exercise of noble end, + And so through those dark gates across the wild + That no man knows. Indeed I love thee: come, + Yield thyself up: my hopes and thine are one: + Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself; + Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me.' + + + + +CONCLUSION + + + + So closed our tale, of which I give you all + The random scheme as wildly as it rose: + The words are mostly mine; for when we ceased + There came a minute's pause, and Walter said, + 'I wish she had not yielded!' then to me, + 'What, if you drest it up poetically?' + So prayed the men, the women: I gave assent: + Yet how to bind the scattered scheme of seven + Together in one sheaf? What style could suit? + The men required that I should give throughout + The sort of mock-heroic gigantesque, + With which we bantered little Lilia first: + The women--and perhaps they felt their power, + For something in the ballads which they sang, + Or in their silent influence as they sat, + Had ever seemed to wrestle with burlesque, + And drove us, last, to quite a solemn close-- + They hated banter, wished for something real, + A gallant fight, a noble princess--why + Not make her true-heroic--true-sublime? + Or all, they said, as earnest as the close? + Which yet with such a framework scarce could be. + Then rose a little feud betwixt the two, + Betwixt the mockers and the realists: + And I, betwixt them both, to please them both, + And yet to give the story as it rose, + I moved as in a strange diagonal, + And maybe neither pleased myself nor them. + + But Lilia pleased me, for she took no part + In our dispute: the sequel of the tale + Had touched her; and she sat, she plucked the grass, + She flung it from her, thinking: last, she fixt + A showery glance upon her aunt, and said, + 'You--tell us what we are' who might have told, + For she was crammed with theories out of books, + But that there rose a shout: the gates were closed + At sunset, and the crowd were swarming now, + To take their leave, about the garden rails. + + So I and some went out to these: we climbed + The slope to Vivian-place, and turning saw + The happy valleys, half in light, and half + Far-shadowing from the west, a land of peace; + Gray halls alone among their massive groves; + Trim hamlets; here and there a rustic tower + Half-lost in belts of hop and breadths of wheat; + The shimmering glimpses of a stream; the seas; + A red sail, or a white; and far beyond, + Imagined more than seen, the skirts of France. + + 'Look there, a garden!' said my college friend, + The Tory member's elder son, 'and there! + God bless the narrow sea which keeps her off, + And keeps our Britain, whole within herself, + A nation yet, the rulers and the ruled-- + Some sense of duty, something of a faith, + Some reverence for the laws ourselves have made, + Some patient force to change them when we will, + Some civic manhood firm against the crowd-- + But yonder, whiff! there comes a sudden heat, + The gravest citizen seems to lose his head, + The king is scared, the soldier will not fight, + The little boys begin to shoot and stab, + A kingdom topples over with a shriek + Like an old woman, and down rolls the world + In mock heroics stranger than our own; + Revolts, republics, revolutions, most + No graver than a schoolboys' barring out; + Too comic for the serious things they are, + Too solemn for the comic touches in them, + Like our wild Princess with as wise a dream + As some of theirs--God bless the narrow seas! + I wish they were a whole Atlantic broad.' + + 'Have patience,' I replied, 'ourselves are full + Of social wrong; and maybe wildest dreams + Are but the needful preludes of the truth: + For me, the genial day, the happy crowd, + The sport half-science, fill me with a faith. + This fine old world of ours is but a child + Yet in the go-cart. Patience! Give it time + To learn its limbs: there is a hand that guides.' + + In such discourse we gained the garden rails, + And there we saw Sir Walter where he stood, + Before a tower of crimson holly-hoaks, + Among six boys, head under head, and looked + No little lily-handed Baronet he, + A great broad-shouldered genial Englishman, + A lord of fat prize-oxen and of sheep, + A raiser of huge melons and of pine, + A patron of some thirty charities, + A pamphleteer on guano and on grain, + A quarter-sessions chairman, abler none; + Fair-haired and redder than a windy morn; + Now shaking hands with him, now him, of those + That stood the nearest--now addressed to speech-- + Who spoke few words and pithy, such as closed + Welcome, farewell, and welcome for the year + To follow: a shout rose again, and made + The long line of the approaching rookery swerve + From the elms, and shook the branches of the deer + From slope to slope through distant ferns, and rang + Beyond the bourn of sunset; O, a shout + More joyful than the city-roar that hails + Premier or king! Why should not these great Sirs + Give up their parks some dozen times a year + To let the people breathe? So thrice they cried, + I likewise, and in groups they streamed away. + + But we went back to the Abbey, and sat on, + So much the gathering darkness charmed: we sat + But spoke not, rapt in nameless reverie, + Perchance upon the future man: the walls + Blackened about us, bats wheeled, and owls whooped, + And gradually the powers of the night, + That range above the region of the wind, + Deepening the courts of twilight broke them up + Through all the silent spaces of the worlds, + Beyond all thought into the Heaven of Heavens. + + Last little Lilia, rising quietly, + Disrobed the glimmering statue of Sir Ralph + From those rich silks, and home well-pleased we went. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Princess, by Alfred Lord Tennyson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PRINCESS *** + +***** This file should be named 791.txt or 791.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/9/791/ + +Produced by ddNg E-Ching + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |