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When the tide ebbs in sunshine, and he said:


O fair and strong and terrible! Lioness
That with your long locks play the Lion's mane!

But Love and Nature, these are two more terrible

And stronger.

See, your foot is on our necks, We vanquish'd, you the Victor of your will. What would you more? give her the child ! remain Orb'd in your isolation : he is dead, Or all as dead : henceforth we let you be :


the hearts of women; and beware
Lest, where you seek the common love of these,
The common hate with the revolving wheel
Should drag you down, and some great Nemesis
Break from a darken’d future, crown'd with fire,

And tread


out for ever : but howsoe'er

Fix'd in yourself, never in your own arms
To hold your own, deny not her's to her,
Give her the child ! O if, I say, you keep

One pulse that beats true woman,

if you


The breast that fed or arm that dandled

you, Or own one part of sense not flint to prayer, Give her the child! or if you scorn to lay it, Yourself, in hands so lately claspt with yours, Or speak to her, your dearest, her one fault The tenderness, not yours, that could not kill, Give me it; I will give it her.'

He said :

At first her eye with slow dilation roll'd
Dry flame, she listening; after sank and sank
And, into mournful twilight mellowing, dwelt
Full on the child; she took it: “Pretty bud !
Lily of the vale ! half open'd bell of the woods !
Sole comfort of my dark hour, when a world
Of traitorous friend and broken system made
No purple in the distance, mystery,
Pledge of a love not to be mine, farewell ;
These men are hard upon us as of old,
We two must part: and yet how fain was I
To dream thy cause embraced in mine, to think

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I might be something to thee, when I felt
Thy helpless warmth about my barren breast
In the dead prime: but may thy mother prove
As true to thee as false, false, false to me!
And, if thou needs must bear the yoke, I wish it

Gentle as freedom'-here she kiss'd it: then

'All good go with thee! take it Sir' and so

Laid the soft babe in his hard-mailed bands,

Who turn'd half-round to Psyche as she sprang

To meet it, with an eye that swum in thanks ;
Then felt it sound and whole from head to foot,
And hugg’d and never hugg’d it close enough,
And in her hunger mouth'd and mumbled it,
And hid her bosom with it; after that

Put on more calm and added suppliantly;


• We two were friends : I go to mine own land

For ever: find some other: as for me


I scarce am fit for your great plans : yet speak to me, Say one soft word and let me part forgiven.'

But Ida spoke not, rapt upon the child.
Then Arac, ‘Ida—’sdeath! you blame the man;
You wrong yourselves—the woman is so hard
Upon the woman. Come, a grace to me!
I am your warrior; I and mine have fought

Your battle : kiss her; take her hand, she weeps :

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'Sdeath! I would sooner fight thrice o'er than see it.'

But Ida spoke not, gazing on the ground, And reddening in the furrows of his chin,

And moved beyond his custom, Gama said :

'I've heard that there is iron in the blood,

And I believe it.

Not one word ? not one ?


Whence drew you this steel temper? not from me,
Not from your mother now a saint with saints.
She said you had a heart—I heard her


it“Our Ida has a heart”—just ere she died-“But see that some one with authority Be near her still ” and I—I sought for one

All people said she had authority

The Lady Blanche: much profit! Not one word ;

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No! tho'

father sues : see how



Stiff as Lot's wife, and all the good knights maim'd,
I trust that there is no one hurt to death,

wild whim: and was it then for this,


Was it for this we gave our palace up

Where we withdrew from summer heats and state,

And had our wine and chess beneath the planes,
And many a pleasant hour with her that's gone,
Ere you were born to vex us? Is it kind ?
Speak to her I say: is this not she of whom,

When first she



said to me

Now had you got a friend of your own age,
Now could you share your thought; now should men see

Two women faster welded in one love

Than pairs of wedlock ; she you walk'd with, she
You talk'd with, whole nights long, up in the tower,
Of sine and arc, spheroïd and azimuth,
And right ascension, Heaven knows what; and now

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