THE BLUE DWARF. 
8I 
In this flask of crystal lurks  
Bruised virility of Turks,  
Boiled with wine and ambergris — 
Every drop an hour of bliss ! 
This cornelian box contains  
Datura-seeds and sparrow-brains,  
Mixed and smoothed with asses’ fat. 
Here the marrow of a bat  
Concecrated by a wizard  
And the seed-cells of a lizard  
Banned by a Thessalian witch,  
Lie like twins — royally rich  
In this casket wrought with gems  
Fit for Mogul diadems. 
 
MIRIAM 
 
O dogs, kings, gods, begone !  
Bone splits from bone.  
I am ripped up like a sweating sow  
On the horn of a buffalo !  
What care I for your gifts, unless  
They might relieve this wretchedness ?  
God !  I am split asunder  
Like a cloud by a clap of thunder !