But when the council broke, I rose and past Thro' the wild woods that hung about the town; 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, 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 I think the year in which our olives fail'd. 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; 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, All wild to found an University 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 (And I confess with right) you think me bound 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 Many a long league back to the North. At last From hills, that look'd across a land of hope, We dropt with evening on a rustic town Set in a gleaming river's crescent-curve, Close at the boundary of the liberties; He with a long low sibilation, stared For any man to go: but as his brain Began to mellow, 'If the king,' he said, 'Had given us letters, was he bound to speak? The king would bear him out;' and at the last— The summer of the vine in all his veins 'No doubt that we might make it worth his while. he heard her speak; She once had past that way; She scared him; life! he never saw the like; |