University of Virginia Library

II. Part II.

And a time passed over the woman, a time, and a wondrous change.

For I saw her who had strayed in the dim forest, who had hidden in the darksome cave;

Whom the wild beasts of the wood had pitied, whom the wild fruits of the wood had fed;

Wrap round her in careless splendour the purple to which she was not born;

A robe inwrought with gold and scarlet, a seamless yet not a stainless robe;

Her feet that had been bare and bleeding trod now upon the necks of kings.

Her lords were they, and yet her vassals; she ruled over them by many spells,

For she could both frown and flatter; she was their queen, their mistress, their slave.

She gave them drink of the wine of her enchantments, full mixed, and poured from a cup of gold.

She flung within it a pearl most precious, where-with the whole world had been too dearly bought.

And in it, too, was mingled the life-blood of a heavenly and of a human vine.

She spared not for the crushing of the grape, its warm tendril, nor its fragrant shoot;

When she needed her balms and odours, the trees of the forest wept.

Nor took she any thought for their wounding, for she trafficked in costly wares,

Ivory, and amber, and coral, the persons and the souls of men.

Her rowers brought her into deep waters; their oars flashed silver to the sun.

For her, too, wrought many craftsmen; the heavy hammer fell

So loud, that one might scarce hear beneath it the beat of either pulse or heart;

But where she came, still followed the clink of an unseen chain.

She spake fair unto him she hated, unto him who hated her sore.

For he who had known how to draw after him the third part of the stars of heaven,

Knew what was among them written of the Woman and of her Seed.

And the Dragon hateth the Woman; yet oft did I behold them as friends.

And when I looked thereon, I marvelled; I marvelled, but I loved her still.

For she was alone and sorrowful; of her sons there were none to guide her.

And ofttimes would she rise up hastily; she fled into the wilderness, she cast aside her ornaments of gold,

And spake of him whom she alone loved, and said, “I am a widow, and no queen!”

And for her I mourned exceedingly; for her I pleaded and wept,

That for her there might yet be found on high a Watcher and a Holy One prevailing,

And for her, among the tender grass, a Root still wet with the dews of heaven.