The creature laid his muzzle on your lap, And sobb'd, and you sobb'd with it, and the blood Was sprinkled on your kirtle, and you wept. That was fawn's blood, not brother's, yet you wept. O by the bright head of my little niece, You were that Psyche, and what are you now?' 'You are that Psyche,' Cyril said again, " The mother of the sweetest little maid, That ever crow'd for kisses.' " Out upon it! She answer'd, 'peace! and why should I not play The Spartan Mother with emotion, be The Lucius Junius Brutus of my kind? Him you call great he for the common weal, As I might slay this child, if good need were, Slew both his sons: and I, shall I, on whom The secular emancipation turns Of half this world, be swerved from right to save A prince, a brother? a little will I yield. Best so, perchance, for us, and well for you. O hard, when love and duty clash! I fear My conscience will not count me fleckless; yet — Hear my conditions: promise (otherwise You perish) as you came to slip away, To-day, to-morrow, soon: it shall be said, These women were too barbarous, would not learn ; They fled, who might have shamed us: promise, all.' What could we else, we promised each; and sle, Like some wild creature newly-caged, commenced A to-and-fro, so pacing till she paused By Florian; holding out her lily arms Took both his hands, and smiling faintly said: 'You are grown, and yet I knew you at the first. I am very glad, and I am very vext To see you, Florian. I give thee to death, My brother! it was duty spoke, not I. My needful seeming harshness, pardon it. Our mother, is she well?' With that she kiss'd His forehead, and a moment after clung About him, and betwixt them blossom'd up From out a common vein of memory Sweet household talk, and phrases of the hearth, And far allusion, till the gracious dews Began to glisten and to fall and while They stood, so rapt, we gazing, came a voice, A rosy blonde, and in a college gown So stood that same fair creature at the door. Then Lady Psyche, 'Ah-Melissa - you! The Danaïd of a leaky vase, for fear This whole foundation ruin, and I lose My honour, these their lives.' 'Ah, fear me not,' Replied Melissa, 'no-I would not tell, No, not for all Aspasia's cleverness, No, not to answer, Madam, all those hard things That Sheba came to ask of Solomon.' 'Be it so,' the other, that we may live to lead The new light up, and culminate in peace, For Solomon may come to Sheba yet.' Said Cyril, Madam, he the wisest man, Feasted the woman wisest then, in halls Of Lebanonian cedar: nor should you Myself for something more.' He said not what, But 'Thanks,' she answered, 'go: we have been too long Together keep your hoods about the face; They do so that affect abstraction here. Speak little; mix not with the rest; and hold We turn'd to go, but Cyril took the child, While Psyche watch'd them, smiling, and the child |