But Ida stood nor spoke, drained of her force By many a varying influence and so long. Down through her limbs a drooping languor wept: Her head a little bent; and on her mouth A doubtful smile dwelt like a clouded moon In a still water: then brake out my sire, Lifted his grim head from my wounds. 'O you, Woman, whom we thought woman even now, And were half fooled to let you tend our son, Because he might have wished it--but we see, The accomplice of your madness unforgiven, And think that you might mix his draught with death, When your skies change again: the rougher hand Is safer: on to the tents: take up the Prince.'
He rose, and while each ear was pricked to attend A tempest, through the cloud that dimmed her broke A genial warmth and light once more, and shone Through glittering drops on her sad friend. 'Come hither. O Psyche,' she cried out, 'embrace me, come, Quick while I melt; make reconcilement sure With one that cannot keep her mind an hour: Come to the hollow hear they slander so! Kiss and be friends, like children being chid! _I_ seem no more: _I_ want forgiveness too: I should have had to do with none but maids, That have no links with men. Ah false but dear, Dear traitor, too much loved, why?--why?--Yet see, Before these kings we embrace you yet once more With all forgiveness, all oblivion, And trust, not love, you less. And now, O sire, Grant me your son, to nurse, to wait upon him, Like mine own brother. For my debt to him, This nightmare weight of gratitude, I know it; Taunt me no more: yourself and yours shall have Free adit; we will scatter all our maids Till happier times each to her proper hearth: What use to keep them here--now? grant my prayer. Help, father, brother, help; speak to the king: Thaw this male nature to some touch of that Which kills me with myself, and drags me down From my fixt height to mob me up with all The soft and milky rabble of womankind, Poor weakling even as they are.' Passionate tears Followed: the king replied not: Cyril said: 'Your brother, Lady,--Florian,--ask for him Of your great head--for he is wounded too-- That you may tend upon him with the prince.' 'Ay so,' said Ida with a bitter smile, 'Our laws are broken: let him enter too.' Then Violet, she that sang the mournful song, And had a cousin tumbled on the plain, Petitioned too for him. 'Ay so,' she said, 'I stagger in the stream: I cannot keep My heart an eddy from the brawling hour: We break our laws with ease, but let it be.' 'Ay so?' said Blanche: 'Amazed am I to her Your Highness: but your Highness breaks with ease The law your Highness did not make: 'twas I. I had been wedded wife, I knew mankind, And blocked them out; but these men came to woo Your Highness--verily I think to win.'