VIII.

Then the queen saith, 'Woman's wit No man asketh aid of it, Not wild hyssop on a wall Is of less account; or small Glossy gnats that flit i' the sun Less worth weighing—light so light! Yet when all's said—ay, all done, Love, I love thee! By love's might I will counsel thee aright, Or would share the weird to-night.' Then he answer'd 'Have thy way. Know 't is two years gone and a day Since I, walking lone and late, Pondered sore mine ill estate; Open murmurers, foes concealed, Famines dire i' the marches round, Neighbour kings unfriendly found, Ay, and treacherous plots revealed Where I trusted. I bid stay All my knights at the high crossway, And did down the forest fare To bethink me, and despair. 'Ah! thou gilded toy a throne, If one mounts to thee alone, Quoth I, mourning while I went, Haply he may drop content As a lark wing-weary down To the level, and his crown Leave for another man to don; Throne, thy gold steps raised upon. But for me—O as for me What is named I would not dree, Earn, or conquer, or forego For the barring of overthrow.'