shrewd a blow she dealt him on the shin,
That had he stood reverse-wise on his head,
Not on his feet, I know not what had chanced.
Then to the shuddering Orient skies there rose
A marvellous great shriek, the splintering noise
Of shattered ash-plant and of battered shank,
Mixed with a higher. For Susan, overwrought,
Lost footing, and with one clear dolorous wail
Fell headlong, only more so. And I saw,
Clothed in black stockings, mystic, wonderful,
That which I saw. The coolies yelled. The crowd
Closed round, and so the tourney reached an end.

Then home they bore the bold Sir Referee
In Susan's litter; and they tended him
With curious tendance; and they drowned his views
On Susan, and the tourney, and the place
Whither he'd see them ere again he ruled
Such functions, with a sweet, small song (I call
It sweet that should not!). This is how it ran:--

'Our Referee has fall'n, has fall'n. The stick,
The little stick he leapt at in the lists
Has riven and cleft the bark, and raised a bulk
Of crescent span, that spreads on every side
A thousand hues, all flushing into one.

'Our Referee has fall'n, has fall'n. She came,
The woman with her ash, and lo the wound!
But we will make a bandage for the limb,
And swathe it, heel to knee, with splints and wool,
And embrocations for the hurts of man.

'Our Referee has fall'n, has fall'n; he wailed;
With our own ears we heard him, and we knew
_There dwelt an iron nature in the grain_!
The splintering ash was cloven on his limb;
His limb was battered to the cannon-bone.'

So passed that stout but choleric knight away;
And we, by certain wandering instincts led,
Made for a small pavilion, where we found
Viands and what not, and the thirsty flower
Of mountain knighthood gathered at the board.
And entering, here we lingered, and discussed
The what not, and the viands, and in time
Drew to the tourney, giving each his views;--
But mostly wondering what the coolies thought
To see these ladies of the Ruling Race,
'Yoked in all _exercise_ of noble end,'
And Public Exhibition. Was it wise?
Some questioned; others, was it quite the thing?

And here indeed we left it, for the shades
Deepened, the high, swift-narrowing crest of day
Brake from the hills, and down the path we went,
We