The dip of certain strata to the North. Would we go with her? we should find the land Worth seeing; and the river made a fall Agreed to, this, the day fled on thro' all Its range of duties to the appointed hour. Her back against a pillar, her foot on one The river as it narrow'd to the hills. I rode beside her, and to me she said: I answer'd, but to one of whom we spake Your Highness might have seem'd the thing you say.' 6 'Again?' she cried, are you ambassadresses From him to me? we give you, being strange, A license speak, and let the topic die.' I stammer'd that I knew him-could have wish'd All he prefigured, and he could not see The bird of passage flying south but long'd To follow surely, if your Highness keep Your purport, you will shock him ev'n to death, 'Poor boy,' she said, 'can he not read no games? nor deals in that 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: We had our dreams; perhaps he mixt with them : since we learnt our meaning here, 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! Resmooth to nothing: might I dread that you, With only Fame for spouse and your great deeds For issue, yet may live in vain, and miss, 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 : Children - that men may pluck them from our hearts, 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.' |