Then comes the statelier Eden back to men : Then reign the world's great bridals, chaste and calm : Then springs the crowning race of humankind. May these things be!' They will not.' Sighing she spoke I fear 'Dear, but let us type them now In our own lives, and this proud watchword rest Of equal; seeing either sex alone Is half itself, and in true marriage lies Nor equal, nor unequal: each fulfils Defect in each, and always thought in thought, Purpose in purpose, will in will, they grow, The single pure and perfect animal, The two-cell'd heart beating, with one full stroke, And again sighing she spoke: 'A dream That once was mine! what woman taught you this?' 'Alone' I said 'from earlier than I know, Immersed in rich foreshadowings of the world, I loved the woman: he, that doth not, lives Or pines in sad experience worse than death, In Angel instincts, breathing Paradise, Too gross to tread, and all male minds perforce And girdled her with music. Happy he With such a mother! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and tho' he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay.' 'But I,' Said Ida, tremulously, 'so all unlike— It seems you love to cheat yourself with words: This mother is your model. I have heard Of your strange doubts: they well might be: I seem A mockery to my own self. Never, Prince; You cannot love me.' 'Nay but thee' I said From yearlong poring on thy pictured eyes, Ere seen I loved, and loved thee seen, and saw Thee woman thro' the crust of iron moods That mask'd thee from men's reverence up, and forced Sweet love on pranks of saucy boyhood: now, Giv'n back to life, to life indeed, thro' thee, Indeed I love the new day comes, the light + Like yonder morning on the blind half-world; Approach and fear not; breathe upon my brows; Melts mist-like into this bright hour, and this Is morn to more, and all the rich to-come Reels, as the golden Autumn woodland reels I waste my heart in signs: let be. My bride, And so thro' those dark gates across the wild Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me.' CONCLUSION. So closed our tale, of which I give you all The random scheme as wildly as it rose: The words are mostly mine; for when we ceased There came a minute's pause, and Walter said, 'I wish she had not yielded!' then to me, 'What, if you drest it up poetically!' So pray'd the men, the women: I gave assent: Yet how to bind the scattered scheme of seven Together in one sheaf? What style could suit? The men required that I should give throughout The sort of mock-heroic gigantesque, With which we banter'd little Lilia first: The women—and perhaps they felt their power, For something in the ballads which they sang, Or in their silent influence as they sat, N |