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The total chronicles of man, the mind,
The morals, something of the frame, the rock,
The star, the bird, the fish, the shell, the flower,
Electric, chemic laws, and all the rest,

And whatsoever can be taught and known;
Till like three horses that have broken fence,
And glutted all night long breast-deep in corn,
We issued gorged with knowledge, and I spoke :
Why, Sirs, they do all this as well as we.
They hunt old trails," said Cyril, "very well;
But when did woman ever yet invent?"

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Ungracious!" answered Florian, " have you learnt No more from Psyche's lecture, you that talked The trash that made me sick, and almost sad? "O trash," he said, "but with a kernel in it. Should I not call her wise who made me wise? And learnt? I learnt more from her in a flash, Than if my brainpan were an empty hull, And every Muse tumbled a science in. A thousand hearts lie fallow in these halls And round these halls a thousand baby loves Fly twanging headless arrows at the hearts, Whence follows many a vacant pang; but O With me, Sir, entered in the bigger boy, The Head of all the golden-shafted firm, The long-limbed lad that had a Psyche too; He cleft me through the stomacher; and now What think you of it, Florian? do I chase The substance or the shadow ? will it hold? I have no sorcerer's malison on me, No ghostly hauntings like his Highness. I Flatter myself that always, everywhere, I know the substance when I see it. Well, Are castles shadows? Three of them? Is she The sweet proprietress a shadow? If not, Shall those three castles patch my tattered coat? For dear are those three castles to my wants, And dear is sister Psyche to my heart, And two dear things are one of double worth,

And much I might have said, but that my zone
Unmanned me: then the Doctors! O to hear
The Doctors! O to watch the thirsty plants
Imbibing! once or twice I thought to roar,
To break my chain, to shake my mane: but thou,
Modulate me, Soul of mincing mimiery!
Make liquid treble of that bassoon, my throat;
Abase those eyes that ever loved to meet
Star-sisters answering under crescent brows;
Abate the stride, which speaks of man, and loose
A flying charm of blushes o'er this cheek,
Where they like swallows coming out of time
Will wonder why they came: but hark the bell
For dinner, let us go!"

And in we streamed
Among the columns, pacing staid and still
By twos and threes, till all from end to end
With beauties every shade of brown and fair,
In colors gayer than the morning mist,

The long hall glittered like a bed of flowers.
How might a man not wander from his wits,
Pierced through with eyes, but that I kept mine

Own

Intent on her, who rapt in glorious dreams
The second-sight of some Astræan age,
Sat compassed with professors: they, the while,
Discussed a doubt, and tossed it to and fro:
A clamor thickened, mixed with inmost terms
Of art and science; Lady Blanche alone,
Of faded form and haughtiest lineaments,
With all her Autumn tresses falsely brown,
Shot sidelong daggers at us, a tiger-cat
In act to spring.

At last a solemn grace
Concluded, and we sought the gardens: there
One walked reciting by herself, and one
In this hand held a volume as to read,

And smoothed a petted peacock down with that:
Some to a low song oared a shallop by,

Or under arches of the marble bridge

Hung, shadowed from the heat some hid and

sought

:

In the orange thickets: others tost a ball
Above the fountain-jets, and back again
With laughter: others lay about the lawns,
Of the older sort, and murmured that their May
Was passing what was learning unto them?
They wished to marry; they could rule a house;
Men hated learned women: but we three
Sat muffled like the Fates; and often came
Melissa, hitting all we saw with shafts

Of gentle satire, kin to charity,

That harmed not: then day droopt; the chapel

bells

Called us we left the walks; we mixt with those
Six hundred maidens, clad in purest white,
Before two streams of light from wall to wall,
While the great organ almost burst his pipes,
Groaning for power, and rolling through the court
A long melodious thunder to the sound
Of solemn psalms and silver litanies,

The work of Ida, to call down from Heaven
A blessing on her labors for the world.

Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the western sea!

Over the rolling waters go,

Come from the dying moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while

my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;

Rest, rest, on mother's breast,

Father will come to thee soon;

Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west,

Under the silver moon;

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

III.

MORN in the white wake of the morning star
Came furrowing all the orient into gold.
We rose, and each by other drest with care
Descended to the court that lay three parts
In shadow, but the Muses' heads were touched
Above the darkness from their native East.

There while we stood beside the fount, and watched

Or seemed to watch the dancing bubble, approached
Melissa, tinged with wan from lack of sleep,

Or grief, and glowing round her dewy eyes
The circled Iris of a night of tears;

"And fly," she cried, "O fly, while yet you may! My mother knows:" and when I asked her "how," "My fault," she wept, "my fault! and yet not

mine:

Yet mine in part. O hear me, pardon me!
My mother, 'tis her wont from night to night
To rail at Lady Psyche and her side.

She says the Princess should have been the Head,
Herself and Lady Psyche the two arms;
And so it was agreed when first they came;
But Lady Psyche was the right hand now,
And she the left, or not, or seldom used;
Hers more than half the students, all the love.
And so last night she fell to canvass you:
'Her countrywomen! she did not envy her.
Who ever saw such wild barbarians?

Girls ?-more like men!' and at these words the

snake,

My secret, seemed to stir within my breast;
And oh, Sirs, could I help it, but my cheek
Began to burn and burn, and her lynx eye
To fix and make me hotter, till she laughed:
'O marvellously modest maiden, you!

Men! girls, like men! why, if they had been men,
You need not set your thoughts in rubric thus
For wholesale comment.' Pardon, I am shamed
That I must needs repeat for my excuse
What looks so little graceful: 'men' (for still
My mother went revolving on the word)
'And so they are,-very like men indeed-
And with that woman closeted for hours.'
Then came these dreadful words out one by one,
"Why-these-are—men :
-men: I shuddered :
• and
you know it!'

'O ask me nothing,' I said: ' And she knows too,
And she conceals it!' So my mother clutched
The truth at once, but with no word from me;
And now thus early risen she goes to inform
The Princess: Lady Psyche will be crushed;
But you may yet be saved, and therefore fly :
But heal me with your pardon ere you go."

"What pardon, sweet Melissa, for a blush?”
Said Cyril: "Pale one, blush again: than wear
Those lilies, better blush our lives away.
Yet let us breathe for one hour more in Heaven,”
He added, "lest some classic Angel speak
In scorn of us, 'They mounted, Ganymedes,
To tumble, Vulcans, on the second morn.'
But I will melt this marble into wax

To yield us further furlough:" and he went.

Melissa shook her doubtful curls, and thought He scarce would prosper. "Tell us," Florian asked, "How grew this feud betwixt the right and left."

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