Who turn'd 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 hugg'd and never hugg'd it close enough, And in her hunger mouth'd 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 it

say

"But see that some one 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; See how you stand

No! tho' your father sues.

Stiff as Lot's wife, and all the good knights maim'd,

I trust that there is no one hurt to death,

For your 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 flush'd 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 walk'd with, she
You talk'd 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, drain'❜d of her force By many a varying influence and so long. Down thro' 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, Lifting his grim head from my wounds: 'O you, Woman, whom we thought woman even now, And were half fool'd to let you tend our son, Because he might have wish'd 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 prick'd to attend A tempest, thro' the cloud that dimm'd her broke A genial warmth and light once more, and shone Thro' 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 heart 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?

see

why?-yet

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.'

Follow'd; the king replied not;
Your brother, lady,- Florian,

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,

Petition'd 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 hear Your Highness; but your Highness breaks with

ease

The law your Highness did not make; 't was I.
I had been wedded wife, I knew mankind,
And block'd them out; but these men came to woo
Your Highness, — verily I think to win.'

So she, and turn'd askance a wintry eye;
But Ida, with a voice that, like a bell
Toll'd by an earthquake in a trembling tower,
Rang ruin, answer'd 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 stood by us,

you

The roar that breaks the Pharos from his base