we see, is being gradually developed in its true light under the softening effect of influences of which she is as yet unconscious. Love and Nature, as Cyril says, are two more terrible even than she. Listen to her farewell to the little one :

"Pretty bud!

Lily of the vale! half-open'd bell of the woods!
Sole comfort of my dark hour, when a world
Of traitorous friend and broken system made
No purple in the distance, mystery,

Pledge of a love not to be mine, farewell;
These men are hard upon us as of old,

We two must part.

*

But may thy mother prove

As true to thee as false, false, false to me !
And, if thou needs must bear the yoke, I wish it
Gentle as freedom'-here she kiss'd it: then-
All good go with thee!'"

With ecstatic joy the mother receives her babe from Cyril, to whom the Princess has handed it, and having regained her composure, she implores forgiveness of Ida:

I scarce am fit for your great plans: yet speak to me; Say one soft word and let me part forgiven.'"

Once more Ida's sternness is severely tried. Even her unsentimental brother Arac pleads with her,

Upon the woman.'

"the woman is so hard

222

With regard to this sentiment there is an in

structive note in Mr. Dawson's "Study "-from which so much of the matter of this sketch is borrowed. He says:

"This unamiable trait results from woman's mission as the conservator of society. In this respect a woman's character is very narrow, but she feels instinctively that she cannot afford to be lax in offences against social laws. Psyche's weakness had in fact broken up Ida's University, and sins against the family tend to break up society."

The weak old king, her father, moved beyond his custom, says:

"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,""

and so on. This speech is an unwonted effort on his part and it tells with fine effect, as presently the Princess yields in words which for their honesty and simplicity compel our admiration and give a rich promise of the tenderness of her heart, latent as yet, but to be revealed at last in all its strength and beauty, all the purer for the cleansing fires through which it has passed:

"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?—why?—Yet sce,
Before these kings we embrace you yet once more
With all forgiveness, all oblivion,

And trust, not love, you less. ""

The Northern king, however, mistrusts her still, and will not let her nurse his son; the rougher hand," he says, "is safer." Again she beseeches :

"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!'"

He consents. And now the doors are flung open wide, and all the wounded knights on either side are brought in to be nursed. Lady Blanche, true to her nature, taunts the Princess :

Your Highness:

466 Amazed am I to hear

but these men came to woo

Your Highness-verily I think to win!

Ida's reply is dignified as ever, and full of

scorn:

"Pass, and mingle with your likes.

We brook no further insult but are gone!'"

The students are dismissed,

"Till happier times cach to her proper hearth.”

The Prince and his wounded knights are removed to the now vacant rooms. A separate room is reserved for the Prince, and there he is tended by Ida. The dreamy semi-conscious state of illness. is very faithfully described in the poem.

But all the fair students had not gone:

"Some were left of those

Held sagest, and the great lords out and in,
From those two hosts that lay beside the walls,
Walk'd at their will and everything was changed.”

SONG.

In this, the last of the songs, we have the application of these charming parables. Too much for the resolution of the Princess are these influences sweeping under the surface motives of human nature with irresistible sway. All theories are thrown aside, and in an outburst of tenderness, self-renunciation and faith she yields:

666

Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea;
The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape,
With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape;

But O too fond, when have I answer'd thee?
Ask me no more.

Ask me no more: what answer should I give?
I love not hollow cheek or faded eye:
Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die!
Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live;
Ask me no more.

Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are seal'd,
I strove against the stream and all in vain :
Let the great river take me to the main.
No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield;

Ask me no more.'"

Thus in her apparent defeat does she rise to the supreme height of her womanhood.