酷兔英语

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The picture was of hand fast joined to hand,



Both pushed from angry skies, their grasp more pledged

Under the threatened flash of a bright brand



At arm's length up, for severing action edged.

Why, then Love's Court of Honour contemplate;



And two drowned shorecasts, who, for the life esteemed

Above their lost, invoke an advocate



In Passion's purity, thereby redeemed.

Redeemed, uplifted, glimmering on a throne,



The woman stricken by an arrow falls.

His advocate she can be, not her own,



If, Traitress to thy sex! one sister calls.

Have we such scenes of drapery's mournfulness



On Beauty's revelations, witched we plant,

Over the fair shape humbled to confess,



An angel's buckler, with loud choiric chant.

IV



No knightly sword to serve, nor harp of bard,

The lady's hand in her physician's knew.



She had not hoped for them as her award,

When zig-zag on the tongue electric flew



Her charge of counter-motives, none impure:

But muteness whipped her skin. She could have said,



Her free confession was to work his cure,

Show proofs for why she could not love or wed.



Were they not shown? His muteness shook in thrall

Her body on the verge of that black pit



Sheer from the treacherousconfessional,

Demanding further, while perusing it.



Slave is the open mouth beneath the closed.

She sank; she snatched at colours; they were peel



Of fruit past savour, in derision rosed.

For the dark downward then her soul did reel.



A press of hideousimpulse urged to speak:

A novel dread of man enchained her dumb.



She felt the silence thicken, heard it shriek,

Heard Life subsiding on the eternal hum:



Welcome to women, when, between man's laws

And Nature's thirsts, they, soul from body torn,



Give suck at breast to a celestial cause,

Named by the mouth infernal, and forsworn.



Nathless her forehead twitched a sad content,

To think the cure so manifest, so frail



Her charm remaining. Was the curtain's rent

Too wide? he but a man of that herd male?



She saw him as that herd of the forked head

Butting the woman harrowed on her knees,



Clothed only in life's last devouring red.

Confession at her fearfulinstant sees



Judicial Silence write the devil fact

In letters of the skeleton: at once,



Swayed on the supplication of her act,

The rabble reading, roaring to denounce,



She joins. No longer colouring, with skips

At tangles, picture that for eyes in tears



Might swim the sequence, she addressed her lips

To do the scaffold's office at his ears.



Into the bitter judgement of that herd

On women, she, deeming it present, fell.



Her frenzy of abasement hugged the word

They stone with, and so pile their citadel



To launch at outcasts the foul levin bolt.

As had he flung it, in her breast it burned.



Face and reflect it did her hot revolt

From hardness, to the writhing rebel turned;



Because the golden buckler was withheld,

She to herself applies the powder-spark,



For joy of one wild demon burst ere quelled,

Perishing to astound the tyrant Dark.






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