Filthy harlots — the Lord’s grape!
With lore ornamentéd entreating;
Hollow heartéd, heart-departéd —
Yet thou reapest the blooming rose —
When 'tis the weed which is to be swath’d
-- I do in the blooming flower pleasure find!
And me in the yesterday’s blind?!
-- Innocence is reserved for the meek:
-- Of naught is my grasp ne’er to be!
Hah! — for thee even a hound holdeth the throne
Unwantéd child of mother! — Plague of plagues!
Father of leprous children
I wield ye to stint this brawl!
Nigh is the ford — yet harken! — do not thwart!
Desirest thou to do it withal
I shall cause thy body by one head too short!
Sayest ye nay to my boon;
Then wilt thou from bloodshed swoon!
-- Err me not! — Must ye bethink my foolhardiness!
-- Be vanishéd! — Be banishéd! -
-- If ye deemest me not wroth
-- My hand hieth to unsheathe the sword
-- Lest thou tost totter —
-- Whid along! — Wherefore irk my haughtiness?
No man… No man at all!, -- Wherefore bereave
Be it lord or beggar -- The kine of the sward?
Bereaveth my dignity! -- Wherefore holdest thou for
-- Me such quailing scowl?
Loom my darling sun —
Bear the scarlet colour!