122 MYSTERIES:
Worshipping where her false lewd body dwelt
Was dark and hateful ; and a sleepy flood
Trickled therefrom as magic gums that melt.
I had no care that hour for anything :
Not for my love, not for myself; I cling
Desperate to despair, as some to hope,
Unheeding Saturn in their horoscope ;
But I, despair is lord of me and king ;
But I, my thoughts tend ever to the rope.
But I, unknightly, recreant, a coward,
Dare not release my soul from fate untoward
By such a craven’s cunning. Nay, my soul
Must move unflinching to what’bitter goal
The angry gods design—if gods be froward
I am a man, nor fear to drain the bowl.
And some old devil, dead no doubt and damned,
But living in her life, had wisely crammed
Her fierce bronze throat with such a foul device
As made her belly yearn for sacrifice,
She leered like love on me, and smiled, and shammed,
And did not pity for all her breast of spice.
They thrust me in her hateful jaws, and I
Even then resisted not, so fain to die
Was my desire, so weary of the fight
With my own love, so willing to be quite
Sure of my strength by death; and eagerly
Almost I crossed the barrier keen and white.