Jezebel

JEZEBEL 7 “ Throw down that woman ! ” And my breath Caught as they flung her out to death. I think I died that moment. He, Foaming for vengeance and blood-lust, Laughed his coarse laugh of hideous glee. Her sweet bad body in the dust He trampled. Royal from the womb A martyred murderess lacks a tomb ! A tigress woman, clad with sin, And shod with infamy, who pressed The bloody winepress of my skin, And plucked the purple of my breast— Her lovers in their hearts shall keep Her memory passionate and deep. They cast her forth on Naboth’s field Still living, in her harlot’s dress ; Her belly stript, her thighs concealed, For shame’s sake and for love’s no less. Night falls ; the gaping crowds abide No longer by her stiffening side. I crept like sleep toward the place That held for me her evil head ; I bent like sin above her face That dying she might kiss me dead. I whispered “ Jezebel ! ” She turned, And her deep eyes with hatred burned. “ Ah ! prophet, come to mock at me And gloat on mine exceeding pain ? ” “ Nay, but to give my soul to thee, And have thee spit at me again ! ” She smiled—I know she smiled—she sighed, Bit my lips through, and drank, and died !