A talk of college and of ladies' rights, And, yonder, shrieks and strange experiments- No matter we will say whatever comes. And let the ladies sing us, if they will, From time to time, some ballad or a song To give us breathing-space.' So I began, And the rest follow'd: and the women sang Between the rougher voices of the men, I. A PRINCE I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face, To lash offence, and with long arms and hands Now it chanced that I had been, While life was yet in bud and blade, betroth'd To one, a neighbouring Princess: she to me At eight years old; and still from time to time And of her brethren, youths of puissance; And still I wore her picture by my heart, And one dark tress; and all around them both Sweet thoughts would swarm as bees about their queen. But when the days drew nigh that I should wed, And jewels, gifts, to fetch her these brought back And therewithal an answer vague as wind: Besides, they saw the king; he took the gifts; That morning in the presence room I stood With Cyril and with Florian, my two friends: The first, a gentleman of broken means (His father's fault) but given to starts and bursts Of revel; and the last, my other heart, My shadow, my half-self, for still we moved Now, while they spake, I saw my father's face Grow long and troubled like a rising moon, Inflamed with wrath: he started on his feet, Tore the king's letter, snow'd it down, and rent The wonder of the loom thro' warp and woof From skirt to skirt; and at the last he sware That he would send a hundred thousand men, And bring her in a whirlwind: then he chew'd The thrice-turn'd cud of wrath, and cook'd his spleen Communing with his captains of the war. 6 At last I spoke. My father, let me go It cannot be but some gross error lies In this report, this answer of a king, Whom all men rate as kind and hospitable: Or, maybe, I myself, my bride once seen, Whate'er my grief to find her less than fame, May rue the bargain made.' And Florian said: 6 I have a sister at the foreign court, Who moves about the Princess; she, you know, Who wedded with a nobleman from thence: He, dying lately, left her, as I hear, The lady of three castles in that land: Thro' her this matter might be sifted clean.' Then whisper'd Cyril: 'Take me with you too. I grate on rusty hinges here:' but No!' 6 Roar'd the rough king, you shall not; we ourself Will crush these pretty maiden fancies dead In iron gauntlets: break the council up.' But when the council broke, I rose and past Thro' the wild woods that hung about the town; Found a still place, and pluck'd her likeness out; C |