Jephthah and Other Mysteries

LYRICAL AND DRAMATIC. 123 And lo! a miracle! Her carven hand Is lifted, and the little space is spanned, And I am plucked from out her maw, and set Down on the pedestal, whose polished jet Shone like a mirror out of hell—I stand Free, where the blood of other men is wet. So slowly, while the mob stood back, I went Out of the city, with no life content, And certain I should meet no death at least. And, riding ever to the stubborn east, . I came upon a shore whose ocean bent _ In one long curve, where folk were making feast. So with no heart to feast, I joined the mirth, Mingled the dances that resound the earth, And laughing looked in every face of guile, And answered fans with quick and subtle smile ; Ten thousand little loves were brought to birth, Ten thousand loves that laughed a little while. No; for one woman did not laugh, too wise, But came so close, and looked within my eyes So deeply that I saw not anything. Only her eyes grew, as a purple ring Shielding the sun, they grew, they uttered lies— They fascinate and cleave to me and cling. And in their uttermost profound I saw The veil of Love’s unalterable law