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Between the Northern and the Southern morn.'

Then came a postscript dash'd across the rest. · See that there be no traitors in your camp : We seem a nest of traitors-none to trust

Since our arms fail'd-this Egypt-plague of men ! Almost our maids were better at their homes,

Than thus man-girdled here: indeed we think

Our chiefest comfort is the little child

Of one unworthy mother; which she left:

She shall not have it back the child shall grow

To prize the authentic mother of her mind.

We took it for an hour this morning to us,

In our own bed the tender orphan hands

Felt at our heart, and seem'd to charm from thence

The wrath we nursed against the world: farewell.'

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Be dazzled by the wildfire Love to sloughs

That swallow common sense, the spindling king,

This Gama swamp'd in lazy tolerance.

When the man wants weight the woman takes it up,

And topples down the scales; but this is fixt

As are the roots of earth and base of all.

Man for the field and woman for the hearth:

Man for the sword and for the needle she :

Man with the head and woman with the heart :

Man to command and woman to obey;

All else confusion.

Look to it the
: gray mare

Is ill to live with, when her whinny shrills
From tile to scullery, and her small goodman

Shrinks in his arm-chair while the fires of Hell

Mix with his hearth: but take and break her, you! She's yet a colt; well groom'd and strongly curb'd She might not rank with those detestable

That to the hireling leave their babe, and brawl Their rights or wrongs like potherbs in the street. They say she's comely; there's the fairer chance :

I like her none the less for rating at her!

Besides, the woman wed is not as we,

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Thus the hard old king:

I took my leave it was the point of noon :
The lists were ready. Empanoplied and plumed
We enter'd in, and waited, fifty there

To fifty, till the terrible trumpet blared

At the barrier-yet a moment, and once more The trumpet, and again at which the storm Of galloping hoofs bare on the ridge of spears And riders front to front, until they closed

In the middle with the crash of shivering points,

And thunder. On his haunches rose the steed,

And into fiery splinters leapt the lance,

And out of stricken helmets sprang the fire.

Part sat like rocks: part reel'd but kept their seats:

Part roll'd on the earth and rose again and drew:
Part stumbled mixt with floundering horses. Down
From those two bulks at Arac's side, and down

From Arac's arm, as from a giant's flail,

The large blows rain'd, as here and everywhere

He rode the mellay, lord of the ringing lists,

And all the plain,—brand, mace, and shaft, and shield—
Shock'd, like an iron-clanging anvil bang'd

With hammers; till I thought, can this be he
From Gama's dwarfish loins? if this be so,

The mother makes us most—and thinking thus
I glanced to the left, and saw the palace-front
Alive with fluttering scarfs and ladies' eyes,
And highest among the statues, statuelike,
Between a cymbal'd Miriam and a Jael,
With Psyche's babe, was Ida watching us,
A single band of gold about her hair,

Like a Saint's glory up in heaven: but she
No saint-inexorable-no tenderness-

Too hard, too cruel: yet she sees me fight,
Yea, let her see me die. With that I drave
Among the thickest, and bore down a Prince,
And Cyril, one; but that large-moulded man

Made at me thro' the press, and staggering back

With stroke on stroke the horse and horseman, came As comes a pillar of electric cloud,

Flaying off the roofs and sucking up the drains,

And shadowing down the champain till it strikes

On a wood, and takes, and breaks, and cracks, and splits,

And twists the grain with such a roar that the Earth

Reels and the herdsmen cry, for everything

Gave way before him only Florian, he

That loved me closer than his own right eye,
Thrust in between; but Arac rode him down :
And Cyril seeing it, push'd against the Prince,
With Psyche's colour round his helmet, tough,
Strong, supple, sinew-corded, apt at arms;
But tougher, suppler, stronger, he that smote
And threw him last I spurred; I felt my veins

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