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;

And yet this day

I came to tell you;

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,

To hatch the cuckoo.

drag

Rise!' and stoop'd to up

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:

two letters

'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 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.'

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,
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

of you;

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

light

The mellow breaker murmur'd Ida.

Now,

been

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

grew

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

wealth,

Than sick men health

but half

- yours, yours, not mine

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.'

On one knee

Kneeling, I gave it, which she caught, and dash'd
Unopen'd at her feet. A tide of fierce

J