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I like her none the less for rating at her
Besides, the woman wed is not as we,
But suffers change of frame. A lusty brace
Of twins may weed her of her folly. Boy,
The bearing and the training of a child |

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Thus the hard old king : I took my leave: it was the point of noon: The lists were ready. Empanoplied and plumed We enter'd in, and waited, fifty there To fifty, till the terrible trumpet blared At the barrier — yet a moment, and once more The trumpet, and again: at which the storm Of galloping hoofs bare on the ridge of spears And riders front to front, until they closed In the middle with the crash of shivering points, And thunder. On his haunches rose the steed, And into fiery splinters leapt the lance,

And out of stricken helmets sprang the fire.

Part sat like rocks: part reel'd but kept their seats:
Part roll'd on the earth and rose again and drew :
Part stumbled mixt with floundering horses. Down
From those two bulks at Arac's side, and down
From Arac's arm, as from a giant's flail,
The large blows rain'd, as here and everywhere
He rode the mellay, lord of the ringing lists,
And all the plain, brand, mace, and shaft, and shield,
Shock'd, like an iron-clanging anvil banga
With hammers; till I thought, can this be he
From Gama's dwarfish loins? if this be so,
The mother makes us most—and thinking thus
I glanced to the left, and saw the palace-front
Alive with fluttering scarfs and ladies' eyes,
And highest among the statues, statuelike,
Between a cymbal’d Miriam and a Jael,
With Psyche's babe, was Ida watching us,
A single band of gold about her hair,
Like a Saint's glory up in heaven: but she

No saint — inexorable — no tenderness —

Too hard, too cruel: yet she sees me fight,
Yea, let her see me die. With that I drawe
Among the thickest, and bore down a Prince,
And Cyril, one; but that large-moulded man
Made at me thro' the press, and staggering back
With stroke on stroke the horse and horseman, came
As comes a pillar of electric cloud,
Flaying off the roofs and sucking up the drains,
And shadowing down the champain till it strikes
On a wood, and takes, and breaks, and cracks, and
splits,
And twists the grain with such a roar that the Earth
Reels and the herdsmen cry, for everything
Gave way before him : only Florian, he
That loved me closer than his own right eye,
Thrust in between ; but Arac rode him down :
And Cyril seeing it, push'd against the Prince,
With Psyche's colour round his helmet, tough,
Strong, supple, sinew-corded, apt at arms;

But tougher, suppler, stronger, he that smote

And threw him: last I spurred; I felt my veins Stretch with fierce heat; a moment hand to hand, And sword to sword, and horse to horse we hung, Till I struck out and shouted; the blade glanced; I did but shear a feather, and life and love

Flow'd from me; darkness closed me; and I fell.

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For when our side was vanquished and my cause For ever lost, there went up a great cry The Prince is slain. My father heard and ran In on the lists, and there unlaced my casque And grovell'd on my body, and after him

Came Psyche, sorrowing for Aglaïa.
But high upon the palace Ida stood
With Psyche's babe in arm : there on the roofs

Like that great dame of Lapidoth she sang:

‘Our enemies have fall’n, have fall'n : the seed

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