The World’s Tragedy

86 THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. The purport of the star we saw enshrined In the eclipse — to say so — of the sky. I feared her perfidy ; The journey might prove tedious — (nay, my lords ! Star or no star, I am honoured, glad, to find Such royal mates !). But her, I had her stripped And most magnificently whipped By two tall slaves (a Tartar and a Goth) Till all the flesh was ripped From her olive back — she looked like a dead camel When a man frightens off the kites ; And her rich blood came all afroth To her lips’ vermeil enamel — The lips that I had kissed ! And still she would persist. You see, she had her rights ; For here am I come — a feast I had not missed Willingly, for a thousand beads of jade, Or a broad-hipped Nubian maid, Or a diamond flask of rose-perfume, Or a Shiraz boy in his first best bloom ! Oh, I rewarded her well altogether, For she slept at my feet through the cold mountain weather.