When all among the thundering drums Thy face across his fancy comes And gives the battle to his hands : He sees his brood about thy knee- Strikes him dead for them and thee! Tara ta tantara! So Lilia sang: we thought her half-possess'd And, after, feigning pique at what she call'd The raillery, or grotesque, or false sublime— And he that next inherited the tale Half turning to the broken statue, said, Your knight and fight your battle, what for me?' It chanced, her empty glove upon the tomb Lay by her like a model of her hand. She took it and she flung it. Fight' she said, • And make us all we would be, great and good.' He knightlike in his cap instead of casque, A cap of Tyrol borrow'd from the hall, Arranged the favour and assumed the Prince. V. Now scarce three paces measured from the mound 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, By glimmering lanes and walls of canvas, led Threading the soldier-city, till we heard The drowsy folds of our great ensign shake Entering, the sudden light Dazed me half-blind: I stood and seem'd to hear, As in a poplar grove when a light wind wakes A lisping of the innumerous leaf and dies, Each hissing in his neighbour's ear; and then A strangled titter, out of which there brake On all sides, clamouring etiquette to death Unmeasured mirth; while now the two old kings The fresh young captains flash'd their glittering teeth, And slain with laughter roll'd the gilded Squire. At length my Sire, his rough cheek wet with tears, Panted from weary sides King, you are free! We did but keep you surety for our son, If this be he,—or a draggled mawkin, thou, That tends her bristled grunters in the sludge :' For I was drench'd with ooze, and torn with briers, 'But hence' he said 'indue yourselves like men. As boys that slink From ferule and the trespass-chiding eye, Away we stole, and transient in a trice To sheathing splendours and the golden scale Leapt from the dewy shoulders of the Earth, And hit the northern hills. Here Cyril met us A little shy at first, but by and by We twain, with mutual pardon ask'd and given For stroke and song, resolder'd peace, whereon Followed his tale. Amazed he fled away Thro' the dark land, and later in the night Had come on Psyche weeping: then we fell Into your father's hand, and there she lies, But will not speak, nor stir.' He show'd a tent A stone-shot off: we entered in, and there Among piled arms and rough accoutrements, Pitiful sight, wrapt in a soldier's cloak, |