6 He ceasing, came a message from the Head. That afternoon the Princess rode to take The dip of certain strata to the North. Would we go with her? we should find the land Agreed to, this, the day fled on thro' all Its range of duties to the appointed hour. She stood Among her maidens, higher by the head, That lent my knee desire to kneel, and shook My pulses, till to horse we clomb, and so 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.' '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 Our king expects-was there no precontract— All he prefigured, and he could not see Your purport, you will shock him ev'n to death, Or baser courses, children of despair.' 'Poor boy' she said can he not read-no books? Quoit, tennis, ball-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 : Being other since we learnt our meaning here, Upon an even pedestal with man.' She paused, and added with a haughtier smile And as to precontracts, we move, my friend, At no man's beck, but know ourselves and thee, O Vashti, noble Vashti! Summon'd out She kept her state, and left the drunken king To brawl at Shushan underneath the palms.' '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! You grant me license; might I use it? think, Resmooth to nothing: might I dread that you, 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 ourself 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: Howe'er you babble, great deeds cannot die : For ever, blessing those that look on them. 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, May move the world, tho' she herself effect 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, |