And I that prated peace, when first I heard War-music, felt the blind wild-beast 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 labor'd down within his ample lungs,
The genial giant, Arac, roll'd 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 ask'd but space and fair-play 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

Her that talk'd 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 lagg'd 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 clench'd his purpose like a blow! For fiery-short was Cyril's counter-scoff, And sharp I answer'd, touch'd 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 honor! every captain waits
Hungry for honor, 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,' answer'd I, for this wild wreath of air,
This flake of rainbow flying on the highest
Foam of men's deeds- this honor, if ye will.
It needs must be for honor if at all 1;
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 thro',

And

you shall have her answer by the word.'

Boys!' shriek'd the old king, but vainlier than
a hen

To her false daughters in the pool; for none
Regarded; neither seem'd 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 appear'd;
He batter'd at the doors, none came; the next,
An awful voice within had warn'd him thence;
The third, and those eight daughters of the plough
Came sallying thro' the gates, and caught his hair,
And so belabor'd him on rib and cheek

They made him wild. Not less one glance he caught

Thro' open doors of Ida station'd there

Unshaken, clinging to her purpose, firm
Tho' compass'd 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
Suck'd from the dark heart of the long hills roll
The torrents, dash'd 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 clash'd
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 column'd entry shone and marble stairs, And great bronze valves, emboss'd with Tomyris And what she did to Cyrus after fight, But now fast barr'd. So here upon the flat All that long morn the lists were hammer'd 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 kiss'd it and I read :

"O brother, you have known the pangs we felt, What heats of indignation when we heard Of those that iron-cramp'd 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, 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 leaven'd 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 prosper'd, till a rout of saucy boys

Brake on us at our books, and marr'd our peace,
Mask'd like our maids, blustering I know not what
Of insolence and love, some pretext held