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Came sallying thro' the gates, and caught | What heats of indignation when we heard Of those that iron-cramp'd their women's feet;

his hair,

And so belabor'd him on rib and cheek They made him wild: not less one glance he caught

Thro' open doors of Ida station'd there Unshaken, clinging to her purpose, firm Tho' compass'd by two armies and the

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you

The sole men to be mingled with our cause, "O brother, you have known the pangs The sole men we shall prize in the afterwe felt,

time,

Your very armor hallow'd, and your | And topples down the scales; but this

statues

Rear'd, sung to, when, this gad-fly brush'd

aside,

We plant a solid foot into the Time, And mould a generation strong to move With claim on claim from right to right, till she

Whose name is yoked with children's, know herself;

And Knowledge in our own land make her free,

And, ever following those two crowned twins,

Commerce and conquest, shower the fiery grain

Of freedom broadcast over all that orbs Between the Northern and the Southern morn."

is fixt

As are the roots of earth and base of all, Man for the field and woman for the hearth: Man for the sword and for the needle she:

Man with the head and woman with the heart:

Man to command and woman to obey; All else confusion. Look you! the gray

mare

Is ill to live with, when her whinny shrills From tile to scullery, and her small good

man

Shrinks in his arm-chair while the fires of Hell

Mix with his hearth: but you—she's yet a colt

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Take, break her strongly groom'd and straitly curb'd

Then came a postscript dash'd across She might not rank with those detestable

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Of twins may weed her of her folly. Boy, The bearing and the training of a child Is woman's wisdom.”

Thus the hard old king: I took my leave, for it was nearly noon : I pored upon her letter which I held, And on the little clause "take not his life":

I mused on that wild morning in the woods,

And on the "Follow, follow, thou shalt win":

I thought on all the wrathful king had said,

And how the strange betrothment was

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And ere I woke it was the point of noon, | Among the thickest and bore down a The lists were ready. Empanoplied and

plumed

We enter'd in, and waited, fifty there Opposed to fifty, till the trumpet blared At the barrier like a wild horn in a land Of echoes, and a moment, and once more The trumpet, and again: at which the

storm

Of galloping hoofs bare on the ridge of

spears

And riders front to front, until they closed In conflict with the crash of shivering points,

And thunder. Yet it seem'd a dream, I dream'd

Of fighting. On his haunches rose the steed,

And into fiery splinters leapt the lance, And out of stricken helmets sprang the fire.

Part sat like rocks: part reel'd but kept their seats:

Part roll'd on the earth and rose again and drew:

Part stumbled mixt with floundering horses. Down

From those two bulks at Arac's side, and down

From Arac's arm, as from a giant's flail, The large blows rain'd, as here and everywhere

He rode the mellay, lord of the ringing lists,

And all the plain, brand, mace, and shaft, and shield

Shock'd, like an iron-clanging anvil bang'd With hammers; till I thought, can this

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Prince, And Cyril, one. Yea, let me make my dream

All that I would. But that large-moulded man,

His visage all agrin as at a wake, Made at me thro' the press, and, staggering back

With stroke on stroke the horse and horseman, came

As comes a pillar of electric cloud, Flaying the roofs and sucking up the drains,

And shadowing down the champaign till it strikes

On a wood, and takes, and breaks, and cracks, and splits,

And twists the grain with such a roar that Earth

Reels, and the herdsmen cry; for everything

Gave way before him only Florian, he That loved me closer than his own right eye,

Thrust in between; but Arac rode him down:

And Cyril seeing it, push'd against the Prince,

With Psyche's color round his helmet, tough,

Strong, supple, sinew-corded, apt at arms;

But tougher, heavier, stronger, he that

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That when our side was vanquish'd and | With music in the growing breeze of Time, The tops shall strike from star to star, the fangs

my cause

For ever lost, there went up a great cry, The Prince is slain. My father heard and ran

In on the lists, and there unlaced my casque And grovell'd on my body, and after him Came Psyche, sorrowing for Aglaïa.

But high upon the palace Ida stood With Psyche's babe in arm: there on

the roofs

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Shall move the stony bases of the world.

"And now, O maids, behold our sanc

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bruised and maim'd, the tender ministries

Of female hands and hospitality."

She spoke, and with the babe yet in her arms,

Descending, burst the great bronze valves, and led

A hundred maids in train across the Park. Some cowl'd, and some bare-headed, on they came,

Their

feet in flowers, her loveliest by them went

The enamor'd air sighing, and on their curls

From the high tree the blossom wavering fell,

And over them the tremulous isles of light
Slided, they moving under shade: but
Blanche

At distance follow'd: so they came : anon
Thro' open field into the lists they wound
Timorously; and as the leader of the herd
That holds a stately fretwork to the Sun,
And follow'd up by a hundred airy does,
Steps with a tender foot, light as on air,
The lovely, lordly creature floated on
To where her wounded brethren lay;
there stay'd;

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