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At last

She rose upon a wind of prophecy
Dilating on the future; ' everywhere
Two heads in council, two beside the hearth,


Two in the tangled business of the world,

Two in the liberal offices of life,

Two plummets dropt for one to sound the abyss

Of science, and the secrets of the mind :

Musician, painter, sculptor, critic, more :
And everywhere the broad and bounteous Earth
Should bear a double growth of those rare souls,
Poets, whose thoughts enrich the blood of the world.'


She ended here, and beckon'd us : the rest

Parted ; and, glowing full-faced welcome, she
Began to address us, and was moving on
In gratulation, till as when a boat
Tacks, and the slacken'd sail flaps, all her voice
Faltering and fluttering in her throat, she cried
• My brother !' Well, my sister.' 'O' she said


• What do you here? and in this dress? and these ? Why who are these ? a wolf within the fold !

A pack of wolves ! the Lord be gracious to me!
A plot, a plot, a plot to ruin all !'
No plot, no plot,' he answer’d.

• Wretched boy, How saw you not the inscription on the gate,

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And if I had 'he answer'd · who could think

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The softer Adams of



O sister, Sirens tho' they be, were such
As chanted on the blanching bones of men ?'

• But


will find it otherwise' she said.


• You jest : ill jesting with edge-tools ! my vow
Binds me to speak, and 0 that iron will,
That axelike edge unturnable, our Head,
The Princess.' • Well then, Psyche, take my life,

And nail me like a weasel on a grange

For warning: bury me beside the gate,

And cut this epitaph above my

bones; Here lies a brother by a sister slain,


All for the common good of womankind.'

• Let me die too' said Cyril . having seen And heard the Lady Psyche.'

I struck in :

· Albeit so mask'd, Madam, I love the truth ;

Receive it ; and in me behold the Prince

Your countryman, affianced years ago

To the Lady Ida : here, for here she was,

And thus (what other way was left) I came.'

• O Sir, O Prince, I have no country ; none ;

If any, this ; but none.

Whate'er I was

Disrooted, what I am is grafted here.
Affianced, Sir ? love-whispers may not breathe

Within this vestal limit, and how should I,

Who am not mine, say, live : the thunderbolt Hangs silent; but prepare : I speak; it falls.'


• Yet pause,' I said : "for that inscription there,


I think no more of deadly lurks therein,
Than in a clapper clapping in a garth,

To scare the fowl from fruit : if more there be,

If more and acted on, what follows ? war;

Your own work marr'd : for this

your Academe,

Whichever side be Victor, in the halloo

Will topple to the trumpet down, and pass

With all fair theories only made to gild
A stormless summer.' • Let the Princess judge

Of that'she said : •farewell Sir-and to you. I shudder at the sequel, but I go'

· Are you that Lady Psyche' I rejoin’d,


• The fifth in line from that old Florian,

Yet hangs his portrait in my father's hall
(The gaunt old Baron with his beetle brow

Sun-shaded in the heat of dusty fights)

Às he bestrode my Grandsire, when he fell,

And all else fled: we point to it, and we say,

The loyal warmth of Florian is not cold,

But branches current yet in kindred veins
· Are
that Psyche

Florian added · she


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With whom I sang about the morning hills,
Flung ball, flew kite, and raced the purple fly,
And snared the squirrel of the glen ? are you
That Psyche, wont to bind my throbbing brow,
To smoothe my pillow, mix the foaming draught

Of fever, tell me pleasant tales, and read
My sickness down to happy dreams ? are you
That brother-sister Psyche, both in one ?
You were that Psyche, but what are you now?'
* You are that Psyche,' Cyril said, 'for whom


I would be that for ever which I seem

Woman, if I might sit beside your feet,
And glean your scatter'd sapience.'

Then once more,

• Are you that Lady Psyche' I began,


• That on her bridal morn before she past

From all her old companions, when the king
Kiss’d her pale cheek, declared that ancient ties
Would still be dear beyond the southern hills ;

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