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.