. The poetic and dramatic works of Alfred lord Tennyson. THIRD i73 She had the care of Lady Idas youth, And from the Queens decease shebrought her up. 70 But when your sister came she wonthe heart Of Ida; they were still together,grew — For so they said themselves — inoscu-lated ; Consonant chords that shiver to onenote; One mind in all things. Yet my mo-ther still Affirms your Psyche thieved hertheories, And angled with them for her pupilslove ; She calls her plagiarist, I know notwhat. But I must go; I dare not tarry, andlight, As flies the shadow of a bird, shefled. 80 Then murmurd Florian,
. The poetic and dramatic works of Alfred lord Tennyson. THIRD i73 She had the care of Lady Idas youth, And from the Queens decease shebrought her up. 70 But when your sister came she wonthe heart Of Ida; they were still together,grew — For so they said themselves — inoscu-lated ; Consonant chords that shiver to onenote; One mind in all things. Yet my mo-ther still Affirms your Psyche thieved hertheories, And angled with them for her pupilslove ; She calls her plagiarist, I know notwhat. But I must go; I dare not tarry, andlight, As flies the shadow of a bird, shefled. 80 Then murmurd Florian, gazing after her:An open-hearted maiden, true and I could love, why this were she. How prettyHer blushing was, and how she blushd again,As if to close with Cyrils random wish!Not like your Princess crammd with erring pride,Nor like poor Psyche whom she drags in tow. The crane/ I said, may chatter of the crane,The dove may murmur of the dove, but IAn eagle clang an eagle to the sphere. 90 My princess, O my princess! true she errs, ^v , u^-v. Melissa shook her doubtful curls, and thoughtHe scarce would prosper 174 THE PRINCESS But in her own grand way; being herselfThree times more noble than three score of men,She sees herself in every woman else,And so she wears her error like a crownTo blind the truth and me. For her, and her,Hebes are they to hand ambrosia, mixThe nectar; but — ah, she — wheneer she movesThe Samian Here rises, and she speaksA Memnon smitten with the morning So saying from the court we paced, and gaindThe terrace ranged along the northern front,And leaning there on those balusters, highAbove the empurpled champaign, drank the galeThat blown about the foliage under-neath,And sated with the innumerable rose,Beat balm upon our eyelids. Hither cameCyril, and yawning, O hard task, he cried:No fighting shadows here. I forced a wayThro solid opposition crabbd and gnarld. no Better to clear prime forests, heave and thumpA league of street in summer so
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