Kneeling, I gave it, which she caught, and dash'd Unopen'd at her feet: a tide of fierce Invective seem'd to wait behind her lips, As waits a river level with the dam Ready to burst and flood the world with foam : All open-mouth'd, all gazing to the light, Some crying there was an army in the land, And some that men were in the very walls, And some they cared not; till a clamour grew As of a new-world Babel, woman-built, And worse-confounded: high above them stood The placid marble Muses, looking peace. Not peace, she look'd, the Head: but rising up To the open window moved, remaining there Of tempest, when the crimson-rolling eye Glares ruin, and the wild birds on the light Dash themselves dead. She stretch'd her arms and call'd Across the tumult and the tumult fell. What fear ye brawlers? am not I your Head? On me, me, me, the storm first breaks: I dare All these male thunderbolts: what is it ye fear? And clad in iron burst the ranks of war, that From which I would redeem ye: but for those That stir this hubbub-you and you I know She, ending, waved her hands: thereat the crowd Muttering, dissolved: then with a smile, that look'd A stroke of cruel sunshine on the cliff When all the glens are drown'd in azure gloom 'You have done well and like a gentleman, H And like a prince: you have our thanks for all : And you look well too in your woman's dress : You saved our life: we owe you bitter thanks : You that have dared to break our bound, and gull'd Our servants, wrong'd and lied and thwarted us— 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. Then those eight mighty daughters of the plough Bent their broad faces toward us and address'd 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, 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 ever 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. |