'Ungracious！' answered Florian； 'have you learnt No more from Psyche's lecture， you that talked The trash that made me sick， and almost sad？'
'O trash' he said， 'but with a kernel in it.
Should I not call her wise， who made me wise？
And learnt？ I learnt more from her in a flash， Than in my brainpan were an empty hull， And every Muse tumbled a science in.
A thousand hearts lie fallow in these halls， And round these halls a thousand baby loves Fly twanging headless arrows at the hearts， Whence follows many a vacant pang； but OWith me， Sir， entered in the bigger boy， The Head of all the golden-shafted firm， The long-limbed lad that had a Psyche too；He cleft me through the stomacher； and now What think you of it， Florian？ do I chase The substance or the shadow？ will it hold？
I have no sorcerer's malison on me， No ghostly hauntings like his Highness. IFlatter myself that always everywhere I know the substance when I see it. Well， Are castles shadows？ Three of them？ Is she The sweet proprietress a shadow？ If not， Shall those three castles patch my tattered coat？
For dear are those three castles to my wants， And dear is sister Psyche to my heart， And two dear things are one of double worth， And much I might have said， but that my zone Unmanned me： then the Doctors！ O to hear The Doctors！ O to watch the thirsty plants Imbibing！ once or twice I thought to roar， To break my chain， to shake my mane： but thou， Modulate me， Soul of mincing mimicry！
Make liquid treble of that bassoon， my throat；Abase those eyes that ever loved to meet Star-sisters answering under crescent brows；Abate the stride， which speaks of man， and loose A flying charm of blushes o'er this cheek， Where they like swallows coming out of time Will wonder why they came： but hark the bell For dinner， let us go！'
And in we streamed Among the columns， pacing staid and still By twos and threes， till all from end to end With beauties every shade of brown and fair In colours gayer than the morning mist， The long hall glittered like a bed of flowers.
How might a man not wander from his wits Pierced through with eyes， but that I kept mine own Intent on her， who rapt in glorious dreams， The second-sight of some Astr鎍n age， Sat compassed with professors： they， the while， Discussed a doubt and tost it to and fro：
A clamour thickened， mixt with inmost terms Of art and science： Lady Blanche alone Of faded form and haughtiest lineaments， With all her autumn tresses falsely brown， Shot sidelong daggers at us， a tiger-cat In act to spring.
At last a solemn grace Concluded， and we sought the gardens： there One walked reciting by herself， and one In this hand held a volume as to read， And smoothed a petted peacock down with that：
Some to a low song oared a shallop by， Or under arches of the marble bridge Hung， shadowed from the heat： some hid and sought In the orange thickets： others tost a ball Above the fountain-jets， and back again With laughter： others lay about the lawns， Of the older sort， and murmured that their May Was passing： what was learning unto them？
They wished to marry； they could rule a house；Men hated learned women： but we three Sat muffled like the Fates； and often came Melissa hitting all we saw with shafts Of gentle satire， kin to charity， That harmed not： then day droopt； the chapel bells Called us： we left the walks； we mixt with those Six hundred maidens clad in purest white， Before two streams of light from wall to wall， While the great organ almost burst his pipes， Groaning for power， and rolling through the court A long melodious thunder to the sound Of solemn psalms， and silver litanies， The work of Ida， to call down from Heaven A blessing on her labours for the world.
Sweet and low， sweet and low， Wind of the western sea， Low， low， breathe and blow， Wind of the western sea！
Over the rolling waters go， Come from the dying moon， and blow， Blow him again to me；While my little one， while my pretty one， sleeps.
Sleep and rest， sleep and rest， Father will come to thee soon；Rest， rest， on mother's breast， Father will come to thee soon；Father will come to his babe in the nest， Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon：
Sleep， my little one， sleep， my pretty one， sleep.
