I broke the letter of it to keep the sense.
I spoke not then at first, but watch'd them well, Saw that they kept apart, no mischief done;
tho' you should hate me for it
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 blazon'd 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 know it - you 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 answer'd 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 stretch'd a vulture throat, And shot from crooked lips a haggard smile.
The plan was mine. I built the nest,' she said,
Melissa. She, half on her mother propt,
Half-drooping from her, turn'd her face, and cast A liquid look on Ida, full of prayer, Which melted Florian's fancy as she hung, A Niobeän 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 rush'd Among us, out of breath, as one pursued, A woman-post in flying raiment. Fear
Stared in her eyes, and chalk'd her face, and wing'd Her transit to the throne, whereby she fell Delivering seal'd 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 seem'd, 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 jarr'd on her ire; she crush'd The scrolls together, made a sudden turn As if to speak, but, utterance failing her,
She whirl'd them on to me, as who should say 'Read,' and I read one her sire's:
'Fair daughter, when we sent the Prince your
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 hand, 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 tho' 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 Thro' 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.'
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, Tho' 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
I babbled for you, as babies for the moon,
Vague brightness; when a boy, you stoop'd 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 wild-swan in among the stars
Would clang it, and lapt in wreaths of glowworm
The mellow breaker murmur'd Ida.
Because I would have reach'd you, had you 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; tho' when known, there
Another kind of beauty in detail
Made them worth knowing; but in you I found My boyish dream involved and dazzled down And master'd, 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
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 clench'd antagonisms To follow up the worthiest till he die. Yet that I came not all unauthorized Behold your father's letter.'
Kneeling, I gave it, which she caught, and dash'd Unopen'd at her feet. A tide of fierce
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