'Poor boy,' she said, 'can he not read Which men delight in, martial exercises? To nurse a blind ideal, like a girl, Methinks he seems no better than a girl; As girls were once, as we ourselves have been : To uplift the woman's fall'n divinity Upon an even pedestal with man.' She paused, and added with a haughtier smile: She kept her state, and left the drunken king 'Alas your Highness breathes full East,' I said, 'On that which leans to you. I know the Prince, I prize his truth: and then how vast a work To assail this gray preeminence of man! With only Fame for spouse and your great deeds Meanwhile, what every woman counts her due, Love, children, happiness?' And she exclaim'd, 'Peace, you young savage of the Northern wild! What! tho' your Prince's love were like a God's, Have we not made ourselves the sacrifice ? You are bold indeed: we are not talk'd to thus: Yet will we say for children, would they grew Like field-flowers everywhere! we like them well: Howe'er you babble, great deeds cannot die : Children that men may pluck them from our hearts, Kill us with pity, break us with ourselves O children there is nothing upon earth More miserable than she that has a son And sees him err: nor would we work for fame; Tho' she perhaps might reap the applause of Great, Who learns the one POU STO whence after-hands May move the world, though she herself effect But little wherefore up and act, nor shrink For fear our solid aim be dissipated Of frail successors. Would, indeed, we had been, In lieu of many mortal flies, a race Of giants, living, each, a thousand years, That we might see our own work out, and watch The sandy footprint harden into stone.' I answer'd nothing, doubtful in myself If that strange maiden could at all be won. And she broke out interpreting my thoughts: No doubt we seem a kind of monster to you: We are used to that; for women, up till this In high desire, they know not, cannot guess By slow approaches, than by single act Of immolation, any phase of death, We were as prompt to spring against the pikes, Or down the fiery gulf as talk of it, To compass our dear sister's liberties.' She bow'd as if to veil a noble tear; And up we came to where the river sloped To plunge in cataract, shattering on black blocks And danced the colour, and, below, stuck out The bones of some vast bulk that lived and roar'd That will be.' 'Dare we dream of that,' I ask'd, The metaphysics! read and earn our prize, A golden broach: beneath an emerald plane Of hemlock; our device; wrought to the life; For there are schools for all.' 'And yet,' I said, She answer'd, 'but it pleased us not: in truth Those monstrous males that carve the living hound, 5 |