Whom all men rate as kind and hospitable:

Or, maybe, I myself, my bride once seen, Whate'er my grief to find her less than fame, May rue the bargain made.' And Florian said: 'I have a sister at the foreign court,

Who moves about the Princess; she, you know, Who wedded with a nobleman from thence:

He, dying lately, left her, as I hear,

The lady of three castles in that land:

Thro' her this matter might be sifted clean.'

And Cyril whisper'd: 'Take me with you too.'

Then laughing' what, if these weird seizures come
Upon you in those lands, and no one near

To point you out the shadow from the truth!
Take me I'll serve you better in a strait;

I grate on rusty hinges here:' but 'No!'
Roar'd the rough king, 'you shall not; we ourself
Will crush her pretty maiden fancies dead

In iron gauntlets: break the council up.'

But when the council broke, I rose and past Thro' the wild woods that hung about the town; Found a still place, and pluck'd her likeness out; Laid it on flowers, and watch'd it lying bathed

In the green gleam of dewy-tassell'd trees:
What were those fancies? wherefore break her troth?

Proud look'd the lips: but while I meditated

A wind arose and rush'd upon the South,

And shook the songs, the whispers, and the shrieks

Of the wild woods together; and a Voice

Went with it 'Follow, follow, thou shalt win.'

Then, ere the silver sickle of that month Became her golden shield, I stole from court With Cyril and with Florian, unperceived, Cat-footed thro' the town and half in dread To hear my father's clamour at our backs With Ho! from some bay-window shake the night; But all was quiet: from the bastion'd walls Like threaded spiders, one by one, we dropt,

And flying reach'd the frontier: then we crost
To a livelier land; and so by tilth and grange,
And vines, and blowing bosks of wilderness,
We gain'd the mother-city thick with towers,
And in the imperial palace found the king.

His name was Gama; crack'd and small his voice, But bland the smile that like a wrinkling wind

On glassy water drove his cheek in lines;

A little dry old man, without a star,

Not like a king: three days he feasted us,
And on the fourth I spake of why we came,
And my betroth'd. You do us, Prince,' he said,
Airing a snowy hand and signet gem,

'All honour. We remember love ourselves

In our sweet youth: there did a compact pass
Long summers back, a kind of ceremony-

I think the year in which our olives fail'd.

I would you had her, Prince, with all my heart, With my full heart but there were widows here,

:

Two widows, Lady Psyche, Lady Blanche;
They fed her theories, in and out of place

Maintaining that with equal husbandry

The woman were an equal to the man.

They harp'd on this; with this our banquets rang;
Our dances broke and buzz'd in knots of talk;
Nothing but this; my very ears were hot

To hear them: knowledge, so my daughter held,
Was all in all; they had but been, she thought,
As children; they must lose the child, assume
The woman: then, Sir, awful odes she wrote,
Too awful, sure, for what they treated of,
But all she is and does is awful; odes

About this losing of the child; and rhymes

And dismal lyrics, prophesying change

Beyond all reason: these the women sang;

And they that know such things-I sought but peace;

No critic I would call them masterpieces:

They master'd me. At last she begg'd a boon

A certain summer-palace which I have

Hard by your father's frontier: I said no,

Yet being an easy man, gave it; and there,
All wild to found an University

For maidens, on the spur she fled; and more
We know not,-only this: they see no men,
Not ev'n her brother Arac, nor the twins

Her brethren, tho' they love her, look upon her
As on a kind of paragon; and I

(Pardon me saying it) were much loth to breed

Dispute betwixt myself and mine but since

:

(And I confess with right) you think me bound

In some sort, I can give you letters to her;

And yet, to speak the truth, I rate your chance
Almost at naked nothing.'

Thus the king;

And I, tho' nettled that he seem'd to slur

With garrulous ease and oily courtesies

Our formal compact, yet, not less (all frets

But chafing me on fire to find my bride)

Went forth again with both my friends. We rode