And like a prince: you have our thanks for all: And you look well too in your woman's dress : You that have dared to break our bound, and gull'd 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. Here, push them out at gates.' In wrath she spake. 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, The weight of destiny: so from her face They push'd us, down the steps, and thro' the court, And with grim laughter thrust us out at gates. 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. When all among the thundering drums Thy face across his fancy comes Tara ta tantara ! So Lilia sang we thought her half-possess'd She struck such warbling fury through the words; And, after, feigning pique at what she call'd And he that next inherited the tale Half turning to the broken statue, said, Sir Ralph has got your colours: if I prove Your knight and fight your battle, what for me?' It chanced, her empty glove upon the tomb Lay by her like a model of her hand. 6 She took it and she flung it. Fight' she said, • And make us all we would be, great and good.' He knightlike in his cap instead of casque, A cap of Tyrol borrow'd from the hall, Arranged the favour and assumed the Prince. V. Now scarce three paces measured from the mound We stumbled on a stationary voice goes ?' 'Two from the palace' I. 'The second two: they wait,' he said, 'pass on ; His Highness wakes:' and one, that clash'd in arms, By glimmering lanes and walls of canvas, led Threading the soldier-city, till we heard The drowsy folds of our great ensign shake Entering, the sudden light Dazed me half-blind: I stood and seem'd to hear, As in a poplar grove when a light wind wakes A lisping of the innumerous leaf and dies, |