VICTORY 
103 
And I, between the wastes of sand 
In one great harbour by a well, 
Met thee, princess of such a band 
Of merchantmen ;  my curvèd brand 
 
Then was raised high, as wild of yell, 
We flashed and charged, and slew thy folk ; 
Thou camest to my bed to dwell— 
That day there clanged the gates of hell 
 
Behind us twain ;  we never spoke 
Save of love’s bidding we might do, 
Save on our lust to place a yoke 
Too bitter to be lightly broke. 
 
Each might we drew on, and something new 
Of lust we learnt, insatiate we 
Who wrote in blood the volumes through 
That speak of love.  But then there grew 
 
A giant lust, strong as the sea ; 
And we with fresh delight assayed 
The fierce sweet bond of tribady, 
The strange strong sin of sodomy,