'Sdeath! I would sooner fight thrice o'er than see it." But Ida spoke not, gazing on the ground; And reddening in the furrows of his chin, And moved beyond his custom, Gama said: "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. She said you had a heart-I heard her say it'Our Ida has a heart,'-just ere she died'But see that some one with authority Be near her still,' and I-I sought for one— The Lady Blanche: much profit! Not one word; For your wild whim: and was it, then, for this, men see Two women faster welded in one love Than pairs of wedlock; she you walked with, she And right ascension, Heaven knows what; and now You shame your mother's judgment too. Not one? Have fretted all to dust and bitterness!" So said the small king, moved beyond his wont. But Ida stood nor spoke, drained of her force By many a varying influence and so long: Down through her limbs a drooping languor wept : Her head a little bent; and on her mouth A doubtful smile dwelt like a clouded moon In a still water: then brake out my sire, Lifting his grim head from my wounds: "O you, Woman, whom we thought woman even now, And were half-fooled to let you tend our son, Because he might have wished it—but we see The accomplice of your madness unforgiven, And think that you might mix his draught with death, When your skies change again: the rougher hand Is safer: on to the tents: take up the Prince." He rose, and while each ear was pricked to attend A tempest, through the cloud that dimmed her broke A genial warmth and light once more, and shone Through glittering drops on her sad friend. "Come hither, O Psyche," she cried out, "embrace me, come, see Before these kings we embrace you yet once more With all forgiveness, all oblivion, And trust not love you less. 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: yourself and yours shall have Free adit; we will scatter all our maids Till happier times, each to her proper hearth; What use to keep them here, now? grant my prayer. Help, father, brother, help; speak to the king: Passionate tears Followed the king replied not: Cyril said: 66 "Our laws are broken: let him enter too." 66 Ay so?" said Blanche: "amazed am I to hear Your Highness: but your Highness breaks with ease The law your Highness did not make: 'twas I. I had been wedded wife, I knew mankind, And blocked them out; but these men came to woo Your Highness-verily I think to win." So she, and turned askance a wintry eye: Tolled by an earthquake in a trembling tower 66 Fling our doors wide! all, all, not one, but all, Not only he, but, by my mother's soul, Whatever man lies wounded, friend or foe, Shall enter, if he will. Let our girls flit Till the storm die! but had you stood by us, The roar that breaks the Pharos from his base Had left us rock. She fain would sting us too, But shall not. Pass, and mingle with your likes. We brook no further insult, but are gone." She turned; the very nape of her white neck Was rosed with indignation: but the Prince Her brother came; the king her father charmed Her wounded soul with words; nor did mine own Refuse her proffer, lastly gave his hand. Then us they lifted up, dead weights, and bare And on they moved and gained the hall, and there Of female whisperers: at the further end That o'er the statues leaped from head to head, And shuddering fled from room to room, and died Then the voice Of Ida sounded, issuing ordinance : And me they bore up the broad stairs and through Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea; With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape; Ask me no more: what answer should I give? Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are sealed: |