The World’s Tragedy

THE BLUE DWARF. 77 ALEXANDER Brothers, all is proven duly. Memory joins with astrolabe : This the maiden — hers the babe. MIRIAM Who are ye ? I would be alone. Now the loose and heaving zone Frets me. Go, my mates, carouse With the cuckold of the house With his adze and awl and chisel ! Zakariah with gilded pizzle And this bull grown sleek and smooth To an ox suffice, in sooth, Love’s exalted task — and thus Kings are grown superfluous. Ai ! but now the monster splits me Struggling in his bloody cage. Is it in his sport or rage ? Answer that, thou doting sage ! For his cacodaemon shape Twisting round no longer fits me. This is like some hellish rape