Bliss Carman, et al., eds. The World’s Best Poetry. 1904.
III. Loves BeginningsAthulf and Ethilda
Sir Henry Taylor (18001886)A
The princess with that merry child Prince Guy:
He loves me well, and made her stop and sit,
And sat upon her knee, and it so chanced
That in his various chatter he denied
That I could hold his hand within my own
So closely as to hide it: this being tried
Was proved against him; he insisted then
I could not by his royal sister’s hand
Do likewise. Starting at the random word,
And dumb with trepidation, there I stood
Some seconds as bewitched; then I looked up,
And in her face beheld an orient flush
Of half-bewildered pleasure: from which trance
She with an instant ease resumed herself,
And frankly, with a pleasant laugh, held out
Her arrowy hand.
I thought it trembled as it lay in mine,
But yet her looks were clear, direct, and free,
And said that she felt nothing.
S
A
As though there were an ant-hill in my bosom.
I said I was ashamed.—Sidroc, you smile;
If at my folly, well! But if you smile;
Suspicious of a taint upon my heart,
Wide is your error, and you never loved.