Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/76

64 His Messengers, great King, we crave the hand Of thy fair davighter at the God's command; At such blest union, as of and , A father's heart should grieve not, but rejoice. Her Lord is Father of the World, and she Of all that liveth shall the Mother be; Gods that adore him with the Neck of Blue In homage bent shall hail the Lady too; And give a glory to her feet with gems That sparkle in their priceless diadems. Hear what a roll shall blazon forth thy line,— Maid, Father, Suitor, Messengers divine! Give him the chosen Lady, and aspire To call thy Son the Universe's Sire — He laudeth none but all mankind shall raise To Him through endless time the songs of praise."

Thus while he spake the Lady bent her head To hide her cheek, now blushing rosy red. And numbered o'er with seeming care the while Her Lotus' petals in sweet maiden guile. With pride and joy 's heart beat high, Yet ere he spake he looked to 's eye— Full well he knew a mother's gentle care Learns her child's heart and Love's deep secret there. And this the hour, he felt, when fathers seek Her eye for answer or her changing cheek. His eager look scarce had bent When 's eye beamed back her glad assent— O gentle Wives! your fondest wish is still To have with him you love one heart, one will!