The Soldan's pining daughter, never yet Well in her chilly green-glazed minaret,-- When rooted up, the sunny day she died, And flung into the common court beside Its parent tree. Come home, Sordello! Soon Was he low muttering, beneath the moon, Of sorrow saved, of quiet evermore,-- Since from the purpose, he maintained before, Only resulted wailing and hot tears. [Sidenote: Sees but failure in all done since,] Ah, the slim castle! dwindled of late years, But more mysterious; gone to ruin--trails Of vine through every loop-hole. Naught avails The night as, torch in hand, he must explore The maple chamber: did I say, its floor Was made of intersecting cedar beams? Worn now with gaps so large, there blew cold streams Of air quite from the dungeon; lay your ear Close and 't is like, one after one, you hear In the blind darkness water drop. The nests And nooks retain their long ranged vesture-chests Empty and smelling of the iris root The Tuscan grated o'er them to recruit Her wasted wits. Palma was gone that day, Said the remaining women. Last, he lay Beside the Carian group reserved and still. The Body, the Machine for Acting Will, Had been at the commencement proved unfit; That for Demonstrating, Reflecting it, Mankind--no fitter: was the Will Itself In fault? His forehead pressed the moonlit shelf Beside the youngest marble maid awhile; Then, raising it, he thought, with a long smile, [Sidenote: and resolves to desist from the like.] "I shall be king again!" as he withdrew The envied scarf; into the font he threw His crown. Next day, no poet! "Wherefore?" asked Taurello, when the dance of Jongleurs, masked As devils, ended; "don't a song come next?" The master of the pageant looked perplexed Till Naddo's whisper came to his relief. "His Highness knew what poets were: in brief, Had not the tetchy race prescriptive right To peevishness, caprice? or, call it spite, One must receive their nature in its length And breadth, expect the weakness with the strength!" --So phrasing, till, his stock of phrases spent, The easy-natured soldier smiled assent, Settled his portly person, smoothed his chin, And nodded that the bull-bait might begin. BOOK THE THIRD