en; and thou to me wouldst turn
With awe-struck eyes, and cling to me and yearn,
With sighs full tender and a touch of fear.
And, like a bird which knows that spring is near,
And, after spring, the summer of sweet days,
Thou wouldst attune thy love-notes in mine ear.

x.

Or, fraught with feelings near akin to hate,
Thou wouldst denounce me; and, like one elate,
Thou wouldst entwine me in thine arms so white,
As soldier-nymphs, with rapt and raging sight,
Made war with spearsmen in the vales of song,
The vales of Sparta where, for right or wrong,
The gods were potent, and, for beauty's sake,
Upheld the tourneys of the fair and strong.

xi.

I would not seem too wilful in the heat
Of our encounter, or with sighs repeat
Too fierce a vow. I would throughout confess
Thy murderous mirth, thy conquering loveliness,
And then subdue thee! Tears would not avail
Nor prayer, nor praise; and, flush'd the while or pale,
Thou shouldst be mine, my hostage in the night,
Without the option of a moment's bail.

xii.

Thou shouldst be mine! My hopes, from first to last,
Would win their way; and, lithe and love-aghast,
And all unnerv'd, thou wouldst, as in a dream
Entreat my pardon! I would callous seem
To thine out-yearning. I would cast on thee
A questioning look, and then, upon my knee,
I would surrender to that face of thine
Which is the great world's wonder unto me.

xiii.

O Heaven! could this be done, and I fulfil
One half my wish, and curb thee to my will,
I were a prompter and a prouder man
Than earth has known since light-foot lovers ran
For Atalanta, lov'd of men and boys.
I were a kaiser then, a king of joys,
And fit to play with high-begotten pomps
As children play with pebbles or with toys.

xiv.

O Golden Hair! O Gladness of an Hour
Made flesh and blood! O beauteous Human Flower
Too sweet to pluck, and yet, though seeming-cold,
Ordain'd to love! I pray thee, as of old,
Be kind to me. I saw thee yesternight,
And for an instant I was urged to plight
My troth again; for in thy face I saw
What seem'd a smile evoked for my delight.

xv.

Re-grant thy favour! Take me by the hand
And lead me back again to thine own land,
The nook supreme, the sanctum in the glen
Where pixies walk,--unknown to peevish men
And shrew-like women whom no faith uplifts!
Show me the place where Nature keeps the gifts
She most approves, and where the song-birds dwell,
And I'll forego the