What name was that the little girl sang forth? Kate? The Cornaro, doubtless, who renounced The crown of Cyprus to be lady here At Asolo, where still her memory stays, And peasants sing how once a certain page Pined for the grace of her so far above His power of doing good to, "Kate the Queen-- She never could be wronged, be poor," he sighed, "Need him to help her!" Yes, a bitter thing To see our lady above all need of us; Yet so we look ere we will love; not I, But the world looks so. If whoever loves Must be, in some sort, god or worshipper, The blessing or the blest one, queen or page, Why should we always choose the page's part? Here is a woman with utter need of me,-- I find myself queen here, it seems! How strange! Look at the woman here with the new soul, Like my own Psyche,--fresh upon her lips Alit, the visionary butterfly, Waiting my word to enter and make bright, Or flutter off and leave all blank as first. This body had no soul before, but slept Or stirred, was beauteous or ungainly, free From taint or foul with stain, as outward things Fastened their image on its passiveness: Now, it will wake, feel, live--or die again! Shall to produce form out of unshaped stuff Be Art--and further, to evoke a soul From form be nothing? This new soul is mine! Now, to kill Lutwyche, what would that do?--save A wretched dauber, men will hoot to death Without me, from their hooting. Oh, to hear God's voice plain as I heard it first, before They broke in with their laughter! I heard them Henceforth, not God. To Ancona--Greece--some isle! I wanted silence only; there is clay Everywhere. One may do whate'er one likes In Art: the only thing is, to make sure That one does like it--which takes pains to know. Scatter all this, my Phene--this mad dream! Who, what is Lutwyche, what Natalia's friends, What the whole world except our love--my own, Own Phene? But I told you, did I not, Ere night we travel for your land--some isle With the sea's silence on it? Stand aside-- I do but break these paltry models up To begin Art afresh. Meet Lutwyche, I-- And save him from my statue meeting him? Some unsuspected isle in the far seas! Like a god going through his world, there stands One mountain for a moment in the dusk, Whole brotherhoods of cedars on its brow: And you are ever by me while I gaze --Are in my arms as now--as now--as now! Some unsuspected isle in the far seas! Some unsuspected isle in far-off seas! _Talk by the way, while_ PIPPA _is passing from Orcana to the Turret. Two or three of the Austrian Police loitering with_ BLUPHOCKS, _an English vagabond, just in view of the Turret._