THE SIXTH DAY 
 
“ Are there not charms 
By which the property of youth and maidhood 
May be abused ? ” 
Othello. 
 
I drew a hideous talisman of lust 
In many colours where strong sigils shone ; 
Crook’d mystic language of oblivion, 
Fitted to crack and scorch the terrene crust 
And bring the sulphur streaming from the thrust 
Of Satan’s winepress, was ill written on 
The accurséd margin, and the orison 
Scrawled backwards, as a bad magician must. 
 
By these vile tricks, abominable spells, 
I drew foul horrors from a many hells— 
Though I had fathomed Fate ; though I had seen 
Chastity charm-proof arm the sea-gray eyes 
And sweet clean body of my spirit’s queen, 
Where nothing dwells that God did not devise. 
 
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