Which, utterly incomprehensible, Is out of rivalry, which thus you can [Sidenote: When induced by love?] Love, though unloving all conceived by man-- What need! And of--none the minutest duct To that out-nature, naught that would instruct And so let rivalry begin to live-- But of a Power its representative Who, being for authority the same, Communication different, should claim A course, the first chose but this last revealed-- This Human clear, as that Divine concealed-- What utter need! What has Sordello found? Or can his spirit go the mighty round, End where poor Eglamor begun? So, says Old fable, the two eagles went two ways About the world: where, in the midst, they met, Though on a shifting waste of sand, men set Jove's temple. Quick, what has Sordello found? [Sidenote: Sordello knows:] For they approach--approach--that foot's rebound Palma? No, Salinguerra though in mail; They mount, have reached the threshold, dash the veil Aside--and you divine who sat there dead, Under his foot the badge: still, Palma said, A triumph lingering in the wide eyes, Wider than some spent swimmer's if he spies Help from above in his extreme despair, And, head far back on shoulder thrust, turns there With short quick passionate cry: as Palma pressed In one great kiss, her lips upon his breast, It beat. By this, the hermit-bee has stopped His day's toil at Goito: the new-cropped Dead vine-leaf answers, now 't is eve, he bit, Twirled so, and filed all day: the mansion's fit, God counselled for. As easy guess the word That passed betwixt them, and become the third To the soft small unfrighted bee, as tax Him with one fault--so, no remembrance racks [Sidenote: But too late: an insect knows sooner.] Of the stone maidens and the font of stone He, creeping through the crevice, leaves alone. Alas, my friend, alas Sordello, whom Anon they laid within that old font-tomb, And, yet again, alas! And now is 't worth Our while bring back to mind, much less set forth How Salinguerra extricates himself Without Sordello? Ghibellin and Guelf May fight their fiercest out? If Richard sulked In durance or the Marquis paid his mulct, Who cares, Sordello gone? The upshot, sure, [Sidenote: On his disappearance from the stage,] Was peace; our chief made some frank overture That prospered; compliment fell thick and fast On its disposer, and Taurello passed With foe and friend for an outstripping soul, Nine days at least. Then,--fairly reached the goal,-- He, by one effort, blotted the great hope Out of his mind, nor further tried to cope With Este, that mad evening's style, but sent Away the Legate and the League, content