She remember'd 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 wonder'd by themselves? A half-disdain Perch'd on the pouted blossom of her lips; The rest would follow, each in turn; and so 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 as a winter's tale? A tale for summer's as befits the time, And something it should be to suit the place, Grave, solemn !' Walter warp'd his mouth at this To something so mock-solemn, that I laugh'd, Hid in the ruins; till the maiden aunt A little sense of wrong had touch'd her face 'Take Lilia, then, for heroine,' clamor❜d 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 answer'd, each be hero in his turn! Seven and yet one, like shadows in a dream. But something made to suit with time and place, 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 — So I began, And the rest follow'd; and the women sang I A Prince I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face, With lengths of yellow ringlet, like a girl, There lived an ancient legend in our house. Dying, that none of all our blood should know And, truly, waking dreams were, more or less, Now it chanced that I had been, While life was yet in bud and blade, betroth'd To one, a neighboring 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 labor of the loom ; And therewithal an answer vague as wind. That morning in the presence room I stood but given to starts and bursts Of revel; and the last, my other heart, 14 And almost my half-self, for still we moved 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, snow'd it down, and rent Communing with his captains of the war. At last I spoke: My father, let me go. And Florian said: I have a sister at the foreign court, Who wedded with a nobleman from thence. He, dying lately, left her, as I hear, Thro' her this matter might be sifted clean.' know, And Cyril whisper'd: Take me with you too.' |