To harm the thing that trusts him, and to shame That which he says he loves: for Cyril, howe'er He deal in frolic, as to-night-the song Might have been worse and sinn'd in grosser lips Beyond all pardon as it is, I hold These flashes on the surface are not he. He has a solid base of temperament: But as the waterlily starts and slides Upon the level in little puffs of wind, Scarce had I ceas'd, when from a tamarisk near Two Proctors leapt upon us, crying, 'Names.' He, standing still, was clutch'd; but I began To thrid thro' all the musky mazes, wind And double in and out the boles, and race By all the fountains: fleet I was of foot: Before me shower'd the rose in flakes; behind I heard the puff'd pursuer; at mine ear Bubbled the nightingale and heeded not, And secret laughter tickled all my soul. At last I took my ankle in a vine, That claspt the feet of a Mnemosyne, And falling on my face was caught and known. They haled us to the Princess, where she sat Prophet of storm: a handmaid on each side Bow'd toward her, combing out her long black hair Damp from the river; and close behind her stood Eight daughters of the plough, stronger than men, Huge women blowzed with health, and wind, and rain, And labour. Each was like a Druid rock; Or like a spire of land that stands apart Cleft from the main, and clang'd about with mews. Then, as we came, the crowd dividing clove An advent to the throne; and therebeside, Half-naked as if caught at once from bed, Bow'd on her palms and folded up from wrong, 'It was not thus, O Princess, in the old days: You prized my counsel, lived upon my lips: I fed you with the milk of every Muse ; I loved you like this kneeler, and you me, Your second mother: those were gracious times. Then came your new friend: you began to change I saw it and grieved to slacken and to cool; Till taken with her seeming openness You turn'd your warmer currents all to her, You froze to me this was my meed for all. And partly that I hoped to win you back, And partly conscious of my own deserts, And partly that you were my civil head, And chiefly you were born for something great When time should serve; and thus a noble scheme In us true growth, in her a Jonah's gourd, Up in one night and due to sudden sun: To Lady Psyche, younger, not so wise, A foreigner, and I your countrywoman, I your old friend and tried, she new in all? But still her lists were swell'd and mine were lean; Yet I bore up in hope she would be known: Then came these wolves: they knew her: they endured, Long-closeted with her the yestermorn, To tell her what they were, and she to hear: And me none told: not less to an eye like mine, Last night, their mask was patent, and my foot To meet a cold 'We thank you, we shall hear of it I spoke not then at first, but watch'd them well, |