On me, me, me, the storm first breaks: I dare All these male thunderbolts: what is it ye fear? Peace! there are those to avenge us, and they come : If not, myself were like enough, O girls, To unfurl the maiden banner of our rights, From which I would redeem ye: but for those That stir this bubbub - you and - you I know Your faces there in the crowd to-morrow morn We meet to elect new tutors; then shall they That love their voices more than duty, learn But fit to flaunt, to dress, to dance, to thrum, She, ending, waved her hands: thereat the crowd Muttering, dissolved: then with a smile, that looked A stroke of cruel sunshine on the cliff When all the glens are drowned in azure gloom 'You have done well and like a gentleman, And like a prince: you have our thanks for all : And you look well too in your woman's dress: Well have you done and like a gentleman. You have saved our life: we owe you bitter thanks: Better have died and spilt our bones in the flood To take such bloody vengeance on you both? — Yet since our father Wasps in the wholesome hive, You would-be quenchers of the light to be, Barbarians, grosser than your native bears O would I had his sceptre for one hour! You that have dared to break our bound, and gull'd Our tutors, wrong'd and lied and thwarted us I wed with thee! I bound by precontract Your bride, your bondslave! not tho' all the gold And every spoken tongue should lord you. Sir, Your falsehood and your face are loathsome to us : I trample on your offers and on you: Begone! we will not look upon you more. Here, push them out at gates.' In wrath she spake. Then those eight mighty daughters of the plough Their motion twice I sought to plead my cause, But on my shoulder hung their heavy hands, The weight of destiny: so from her face They push'd us, down the steps, and thro' the court, And with grim laughter thrust us out at gates. We cross'd the street and gain'd a petty mound Beyond it, whence we saw the lights and heard The voices murmuring; till upon my spirits Settled a gentle cloud of melancholy, Which I shook off, for I was young, and one To whom the shadow of all mischance but came As night to him that sitting on a hill Sees the midsummer, midnight, Norway sun, Set into sunrise: then we moved away. V. Now scarce three paces measured from the mound We stumbled on a stationary voice, And 'Stand, who goes?' 'Two from the palace,' I. 'The second two: they wait,' he said, 'pass on; His Highness wakes:' and one, that clash'd in arms The drowsy folds of our great ensign shake Entering, the sudden light Dazed me half-blind: I stood and seem'd to hear, A lisping of the innumerous leaf and dies, |