opeland:

"_There are fairer men than Atys,
And many are wiser than he--
How should I heed them?--whose fate is
Ever to serve and to be
Ever the lover of Atys,
And die that Atys may dine,
Live if he need me--Then heed me,
And speed me, (the moment is thine!)
And let the heart of Atys,
At last, at last, be mine!_

"_Fair is the form unbeholden,
And golden the glory of thee
Whose voice is the voice of a vision,
Whose face is the foam of the sea,
And the fall of whose feet is the flutter
Of breezes in birches and pine,
When thou drawest near me, to hear me,
And cheer me, (the moment is thine!)
And let the heart of Atys,
At last, at last, be mine!_"

I must tell you that the Queen shivered, as with extreme cold. She
gazed toward John Copeland wonderingly. The secretary was as of stone,
fretting at his lute-strings, head downcast. Then in a while the Queen
turned to Hastings.

"The occasion is very urgent, my lord," the Queen assented. "Therefore
it is my will that to-morrow one and all your men be mustered at
Blackheath. We will take the field without delay against the King of
Scots."

The riot began anew. "Madness!" they shouted; "lunar madness! We can
do nothing until the King return with our army!"

"In his absence," the Queen said, "I command here."

"You are not Regent," the Marquess said. Then he cried, "This is the
Regent's affair!"

"Let the Regent be fetched," Dame Philippa said, very quietly.
Presently they brought in her son, Messire Lionel, now a boy of eight
years, and Regent, in name at least, of England.

Both the Queen and the Marquess held papers. "Highness," Lord Hastings
began, "for reasons of state, which I need not here explain, this
document requires your signature. It is an order that a ship be
despatched in pursuit of the King. Your Highness may remember the pony
you admired yesterday?" The Marquess smiled ingratiatingly. "Just
here, your Highness--a cross-mark."

"The dappled one?" said the Regent; "and all for making a little mark?"
The boy jumped for the pen.

"Lionel," said the Queen, "you are Regent of England, but you are also
my son. If you sign that paper you will beyond doubt get the pony, but
you will not, I think, care to ride him. You will not care to sit down
at all, Lionel."

The Regent considered. "Thank you very much, my lord," he said in the
ultimate, "but I do not like ponies any m