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 To point you out the shadow from the truth! I grate on rusty hinges here:' but 'No!' 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: 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 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, 'All honour. We remember love ourselves In our sweet youth: there did a compact pass 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; Maintaining that with equal husbandry The woman were an equal to the man. They harp'd on this; with this our banquets rang; To hear them: knowledge, so my daughter held, 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, For maidens, on the spur she fled; and more Her brethren, tho' they love her, look upon her (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 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 |