I am your warrior; I and mine have fought
Your battle: kiss her; take her hand, she weeps;
Life! 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

The Lady Blanche: much profit! Not one word

No! tho' your father sues: see how you stand

;

Stiff as Lot's wife, and all the good knights maim'd

For your wild whim and was it then for this,
Was it for this we gave our palace up,

Where we withdrew from summer heats and state,

And had our wine and chess beneath the planes,
And many a pleasant hour with her that's gone,
Ere you were born to vex us? Is it kind?

Speak to her, I say: is this not she of whom,
When first she came, all-flush'd you said to me,

Now had you got a friend of your own age,

Now could you share your thought; now should men see Two women faster welded in one love

Than pairs of wedlock; she you walk'd with, she

You talk'd with, whole nights long, up in the tower,

Of sine and arc, spheroïd and azimuth,

And right ascension, Heaven knows what; and now

A word but one, one little kindly word,

Not one to spare her out upon you, flint!

You love nor her, nor me, nor any; nay,

You shame your mother's judgment too. Not one?
You will not? well no heart have you, or such

As fancies, like the vermin in a nut,

Have fretted all to dust and bitterness.'

So said the small king, moved beyond his wont.

But Ida stood nor spoke, drain'd of her force By many a varying influence and so long: Down thro' 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 wish'd 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 prick'd to attend

A tempest, thro' the cloud that dimm'd her broke
A genial warmth and light once more, and shone
Thro' glittering drops on her sad friend.

'Come hither,

O Psyche,' she cried out, ' embrace me, come,
Quick while I melt; make reconcilement sure
With one that cannot keep her mind an hour: ←
Come to the hollow heart they slander so!

Kiss and be friends like children being chid!

I seem no more: I want forgiveness too :

I should have had to do with none but maids,

That have no links with men. Ah false but dear,

Dear traitor too much loved, why? - why? - Yet 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:

Thaw this male nature to some touch of that

Which kills me with myself, and drags me down

From my fixt height to mob me up with all

The soft and milky rabble of womankind,

Poor weakling ev'n as they are.'

Passionate tears

Follow'd: the king replied not: Cyril said:

'Your brother, Lady,- Florian, — ask for him

Of your great head

for he is wounded too

That you may tend upon him with the prince.'

'Ay so,' said Ida with a bitter smile,

'Our laws are broken: let him enter too.'