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THE PRINCESS;
Found the gray kings at parle: and 'Look to it' cried My father 'that our compact is performed:You have spoilt this girl; she laughs at you and man: She shall not legislate for Nature, king,But yields, or war.'
Then Gama turn'd to me: 'We fear, indeed, you spent a stormy time With our strange child: and yet they say that still You love her. Give us, then, your mind at large:How say you, war or not?
'Not war, if possible, O king,' I said, 'lest from the abuse of war, The desecrated shrine, the trampled year, The smouldering homestead, and the household flower Torn from the lintel—all the common wrong—A smoke go up thro' which I loom to her Three times a monster: now she lightens scornAt the enemy of her plan, but then would hate
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