And there's a downright honest meaning in her;She flies too high, she flies too high! and yet She asked but space and fairplay for her scheme;She prest and prest it on me--I myself, What know I of these things? but, life and soul!
I thought her half-right talking of her wrongs;I say she flies too high, 'sdeath! what of that?
I take her for the flower of womankind, And so I often told her, right or wrong, And, Prince, she can be sweet to those she loves, And, right or wrong, I care not: this is all, I stand upon her side: she made me swear it--'Sdeath--and with solemn rites by candle-light--Swear by St something--I forget her name--Her that talked down the fifty wisest men;~She~ was a princess too; and so I swore.
Come, this is all; she will not: waive your claim:
If not, the foughten field, what else, at once Decides it, 'sdeath! against my father's will.'
I lagged in answer loth to render up My precontract, and loth by brainless war To cleave the rift of difference deeper yet;Till one of those two brothers, half aside And fingering at the hair about his lip, To prick us on to combat 'Like to like!
The woman's garment hid the woman's heart.'
A taunt that clenched his purpose like a blow!
For fiery-short was Cyril's counter-scoff, And sharp I answered, touched upon the point Where idle boys are cowards to their shame, 'Decide it here: why not? we are three to three.'
Then spake the third 'But three to three? no more?
No more, and in our noble sister's cause?
More, more, for honour: every captain waits Hungry for honour, angry for his king.
More, more some fifty on a side, that each May breathe himself, and quick! by overthrow Of these or those, the question settled die.'
'Yea,' answered I, 'for this wreath of air, This flake of rainbow flying on the highest Foam of men's deeds--this honour, if ye will.
It needs must be for honour if at all:
Since, what decision? if we fail, we fail, And if we win, we fail: she would not keep Her compact.' ''Sdeath! but we will send to her,'
Said Arac, 'worthy reasons why she should Bide by this issue: let our missive through, And you shall have her answer by the word.'
'Boys!' shrieked the old king, but vainlier than a hen To her false daughters in the pool; for none Regarded; neither seemed there more to say:
Back rode we to my father's camp, and found He thrice had sent a herald to the gates, To learn if Ida yet would cede our claim, Or by denial flush her babbling wells With her own people's life: three times he went:
The first, he blew and blew, but none appeared:
He battered at the doors; none came: the next, An awful voice within had warned him thence:
The third, and those eight daughters of the plough Came sallying through the gates, and caught his hair, And so belaboured him on rib and cheek They made him wild: not less one glance he caught Through open doors of Ida stationed there Unshaken, clinging to her purpose, firm Though compassed by two armies and the noise Of arms; and standing like a stately Pine Set in a cataract on an island-crag, When storm is on the heights, and right and left Sucked from the dark heart of the long hills roll The torrents, dashed to the vale: and yet her will Bred will in me to overcome it or fall.
But when I told the king that I was pledged To fight in tourney for my bride, he clashed His iron palms together with a cry;Himself would tilt it out among the lads:
But overborne by all his bearded lords With reasons drawn from age and state, perforce He yielded, wroth and red, with fierce demur:
And many a bold knight started up in heat, And sware to combat for my claim till death.
All on this side the palace ran the field Flat to the garden-wall: and likewise here, Above the garden's glowing blossom-belts, A columned entry shone and marble stairs, And great bronze valves, embossed with Tomyris And what she did to Cyrus after fight, But now fast barred: so here upon the flat All that long morn the lists were hammered up, And all that morn the heralds to and fro, With message and defiance, went and came;Last, Ida's answer, in a royal hand, But shaken here and there, and rolling words Oration-like. I kissed it and I read.
'O brother, you have known the pangs we felt, What heats of indignation when we heard Of those that iron-cramped their women's feet;Of lands in which at the altar the poor bride Gives her harsh groom for bridal-gift a scourge;Of living hearts that crack within the fire Where smoulder their dead despots; and of those,--Mothers,--that, with all prophetic pity, fling Their pretty maids in the running flood, and swoops The vulture, beak and talon, at the heart Made for all noble motion: and I saw That equal baseness lived in sleeker times With smoother men: the old leaven leavened all:
Millions of throats would bawl for civil rights, No woman named: therefore I set my face Against all men, and lived but for mine own.
Far off from men I built a fold for them:
I stored it full of rich memorial:
I fenced it round with gallant institutes, And biting laws to scare the beasts of prey And prospered; till a rout of saucy boys Brake on us at our books, and marred our peace, Masked like our maids, blustering I know not what Of insolence and love, some pretext held Of baby troth, invalid, since my will Sealed not the bond--the striplings! for their sport!--I tamed my leopards: shall I not tame these?
