A talk of college and of ladies' rights,
A feudal knight in silken masquerade,

And, yonder, shrieks and strange experiments—
Were such a medley we should have him back
Who told the winter's tale' to do it for us.

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,
Like linnets in the pauses of the wind:
And here I give the story and the songs.

I.

A PRINCE I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face,
Of temper amorous, as the first of May,
With lengths of yellow ringlet, like a girl,
For on my cradle shone the Northern star.
My mother was as mild as any saint,
Half-canonized by all that look'd on her,
So gracious was her tact and tenderness :
But my good father thought a king a king;
He held his sceptre like a pedant's wand

To lash offence, and with long arms and hands
Reach'd out, and pick'd offenders from the mass
For judgment.

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
Was proxy-wedded with a bootless calf

At eight years old; and still from time to time
Came murmurs of her beauty from the South,
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,

My father sent ambassadors with furs

And jewels, gifts, to fetch her: these brought back
A present, a great labour of the loom ;

And therewithal an answer vague as wind:

Besides, they saw the king; he took the gifts;
He said there was a compact; that was true:
But then she had a will; was he to blame?
And maiden fancies; loved to live alone
Among her women; certain, would not wed.

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
Together, kin as horse's ear and eye.

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.

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: '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.

Trust me, I'll serve you better in a strait ;

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