MELPOMENE among her livid people, Ere stroke of lyre, upon Thaleia looks, Warned by old contests that one museful ripple Along those lips of rose with tendril hooks Forebodes disturbance in the springs of pathos, Perchance may change of masks midway demand, Albeit the man rise mountainous as Athos, The woman wild as Cape Leucadia stand. II For this the Comic Muse exacts of creatures Appealing to the fount of tears: that they Strive never to outleap our human features, And do Right Reason’s ordinance obey, In peril of the hum to laughter nighest. But prove they under stress of action’s fire Nobleness, to that test of Reason highest, She bows: she waves them for the loftier lyre. ARCHDUCHESS ANNE I I IN middle age an evil thing Befell Archduchess Anne: She looked outside her wedding-ring Upon a princely man. II Count Louis was for horse and arms; And if its beacon waved, For love; but ladies had not charms To match a danger braved. III On battlefields he was the bow Bestrung to fly the shaft: In idle hours his heart would flow As winds on currents waft. IV His blood was of those warrior tribes That streamed from morning’s fire, Whom now with traps and now with bribes The wily Council wire. V Archduchess Anne the Council ruled, Count Louis his great dame; And woe to both when one had cooled! Little was she to blame. VI Among her chiefs who spun their plots, Old Kraken stood the sword: As sharp his wits for cutting knots Of babble he abhorred. VII He reverenced her name and line, Nor other merit had Save soldierwise to wait her sign, And do the deed she bade. VIII He saw her hand jump at her side Ere royally she smiled On Louis and his fair young bride Where courtly ranks defiled. IX That was a moment when a shock Through the procession ran, And thrilled the plumes, and stayed the clock, Yet smiled Archduchess Anne. X No touch gave she to hound in leash, No wink to sword in sheath: She seemed a woman scarce of flesh; Above it, or beneath. XI Old Kraken spied with kennelled snarl, His Lady deemed disgraced. He footed as on burning marl, When out of Hall he paced. XII ’Twas seen he hammered striding legs, And stopped, and strode again. Now Vengeance has a brood of eggs, But Patience must be hen. XIII Too slow are they for wrath to hatch, Too hot for time to rear. Old Kraken kept unwinding watch; He marked his day appear. XIV He neighed a laugh, though moods were rough With standards in revolt: His nostrils took the news for snuff, His smacking lips for salt. XV