Many a long league back to the North. At last From hills, that look'd across a land of hope, We dropt with evening on a rustic town Set in a gleaming river's crescent-curve, Close at the boundary of the liberties ; He with a long low sibilation, stared As blank as death in marble; then exclaim'd For any man to go: but as his brain Began to mellow, 'If the king,' he said, 'Had given us letters, was he bound to speak? The king would bear him out;' and at the last-The summer of the vine in all his veins 'No doubt that we might make it worth his while. She once had past that he heard her speak; way; She scared him; life! he never saw the like; She look'd as grand as doomsday and as grave: And he, he reverenced his liege-lady there; His daughter and his housemaid were the boys : Was till'd by women; all the swine were sows, But while he jested thus, A thought flash'd thro' me which I clothed in act, Or Nymph, or Goddess, at high tide of feast, We follow'd up the river as we rode, And rode till midnight when the college lights And linden alley: then we past an arch, Whereon a woman-statue rose with wings From four wing'd horses dark against the stars; There stood a bust of Pallas for a sign, By two sphere lamps blazon'd like Heaven and Earth With constellation and with continent, Above an entry: riding in, we call'd; In laurel her we ask'd of that and this, And who were tutors. 'Lady Blanche' she said, 'And Lady Psyche.' 'Which was prettiest, Lady Psyche.' 'Hers are we,' One voice, we cried; and I sat down and wrote, In such a hand as when a field of corn Bows all its ears before the roaring East; Three ladies of the Northern empire pray Your Highness would enroll them with your own, As Lady Psyche's pupils.' This I seal'd: The seal was Cupid bent above a scroll, |