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Of fever, tell me pleasant tales, and read

My sickness down to happy dreams? are you
That brother-sister Psyche, both in one?

You were that Psyche, but what are you now?"
"You are that Psyche," Cyril said, “for whom
I would be that forever which I seem,

A woman, if I might sit beside your feet,
And glean your scattered sapience."

Then once more,

"Are you that Lady Psyche," I began,
"That on her bridal morn before she past
From all her old companions, when the king
Kissed her pale cheek, declared that ancient ties
Would still be dear beyond the southern hills;
That were there any of our people there
In want or peril, there was one to hear

And help them look! for such are these and I." "Are you that Psyche," Florian asked, " to whom, In gentler days, your arrow-wounded fawn

Came flying while you sat beside the well?
The creature laid his muzzle on your lap,

And sobbed, and you sobbed with it, and the blood
Was sprinkled on your kirtle, and you wept.
That was fawn's blood, not brother's, yet you wept.

O by the bright head of my little niece,

You were that Psyche, and what are you now?" "You are that Psyche," Cyril said again,

"The mother of the sweetest little maid

That ever crowed for kisses."

"Out upon it!"

She answered, "peace! and why should I not play

The Spartan Mother with emotion, be

The Lucius Junius Brutus of my kind?

Him you call great he for the common weal,

The fading politics of mortal Rome,

As I might slay this child, if good need were,
Slew both his sons: and I, shall I, on whom
The secular emancipation turns

Of half this world, be swerved from right to save
A prince, a brother? a little will I yield.
Best so, perchance, for us, and well for you.

O hard, when love and duty clash! I fear

My conscience will not count me fleckless; yet
Hear my conditions: promise (otherwise

You perish) as you came to slip away,

To-day, to-morrow, soon: it shall be said,

These women were too barbarous, would not learn;

They fled, who might have shamed us: promise, all.”

What could we else, we promised each; and she, Like some wild creature, newly-caged, commenced A to-and-fro, so pacing till she paused

By Florian; holding out her lily arms,

Took both his hands, and smiling faintly said:
"I knew you at the first: though you have grown,
You scarce have altered: I am sad and glad
To see you, Florian. I give thee to death,
My brother! it was duty spoke, not I.
My needful seeming harshness, pardon it.
Our mother, is she well?"

With that she kissed

His forehead, then, a moment after, clung
About him, and betwixt them blossomed up
From out a common vein of memory

Sweet household talk, and phrases of the hearth,
And far allusion, till the gracious dews
Began to glisten and to fall and while

They stood, so rapt, we gazing, came a voice,
"I brought a message here from Lady Blanche."
Back started she, and turning round we saw
The Lady Blanche's daughter where she stood,

A rosy blonde, and in a college gown
That clad her like an April daffodilly,
(Her mother's color,) with her lips apart,
And all her thoughts as fair within her eyes,
As bottom agates seem to wave and float
In crystal currents of clear morning seas.

So stood that same fair creature at the door.
Then Lady Psyche, "Ah-Melissa - you!
You heard us?" and Melissa, "O pardon me!
I heard, I could not help it, did not wish :
But, dearest Lady, pray you fear me not,
Nor think I bear that heart within my breast,
To give three gallant gentlemen to death."

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I trust you," said the other, "for we two Were always friends, none closer, elm and vine: But yet your mother's jealous temperament Let not your prudence, dearest, drowse, c. prove The Danaïd of a leaky vase, for fear

This whole foundation ruin, and I lose

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My honor, these their lives." Ah, fear me not," Replied Melissa, "no - I would not tell,

No, not for all Aspasia's cleverness,

No, not to answer, Madam, all those hard things

"Be it so," the other, " that we still may lead
The new light up, and culminate in peace,
For Solomon may come to Sheba yet.”
Said Cyril, "Madam, he the wisest man,
Feasted the woman wisest then, in halls
Of Lebanonian cedar: nor should you
(Though madam you should answer, we would ask)
Less welcome find among us, if you came

Among us, debtors for our lives to you,

Myself for something more." He said not what,
But "Thanks," she answered, "go: we have been too long
Together: keep your hoods about the face;

They do so that affect abstraction here.
Speak little; mix not with the rest; and hold
Your promise: all, I trust, may yet be well."

We turned to go, but Cyril took the child,
And held her round the knees against his waist,
And blew the swollen cheek of a trumpeter,
While Psyche watched them, smiling, and the child
Pushed her flat hand against his face and laughed;
And thus our conference closed.

And then we strolled

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