And then the people took the cry, nor lack Was there of courtly suitors far or near,— Kings, dukes, crown-princes,—swift upon the track, Like huntsmen closing round a royal deer. These she regarded not, but still, among Her maids and missals, to her freedom clung. And with the rest there came a puissant king, Whose country pressed against her own domain,— In strength its equal, but continuing Its dearest foe through many a martial reign. He sued to join his hand and realm with hers, And end these wars; then all her ministers Pleaded his suit; but, asking yet for grace, And that her hand might wait upon her heart, She halted, till the proud king turned his face Homeward; and still the people, for their part, Waited her choice, nor grudged her sex’s share Of coyness to a queen so young and fair. There was a little State that nestled close Beside her boundaries, as wont to claim, Though free, protection there from outer foes, A Principality—at least in name— Whose ruler was her father’s life-long friend And firm ally, a statesman skilled to lend Shrewd counsel, and who made, in days gone by, A visit to this court, and with him led His son, a gentle Prince, of years anigh Her own,—twelve summers shone from either head; And while their elders moved from place to place,— The field-review, the audience, the chase,— The Princess and the Prince, together thrown, With their companions held a mimic court, And with that sweet equality, the crown Of Childhood,—which discovers in its sport No barriers of rank or wealth or power,— He named himself her consort. From that hour The mindful Princess never quite forgot Those joyous days, nor him, the fair-haired Prince; And though she well had learned her greater lot, And haply from his thought had passed long since Her girlish image, chance, that moves between Two courts, had brought his portrait to the Queen. This from her cabinet she took one morn, When they still urged the suit of that old king, And said, half jesting, with a pretty scorn, “Why mate your wilful Queen with mouldering And crabbed Age? Now were he shaped like this, With such a face, he were not so amiss. “Queens are but women; ’tis a sickly year That couples frost and thaw, our minstrels sing.”— “Ho!” thought the graybeards, “sets the wind so near?” And thought again: “Why not? the schemeful king Perchance would rule us where he should be ruled; A humbler consort will be sooner schooled.” Forewarned are those whom Fortune’s gifts await. Ere waned a moon the elder prince had learned— From half the weathercocks which gilt the state, Spying the wind and shifting where it turned— That for love’s simple sake his son could gain The world’s chief prize, which kings had sought in vain.