170 
IN MANU DOMINÆ 
 
 
She watches every twinge that wrings 
 
The heart of the struggling sacrifice, 
Lest she should lose the joy that stings, 
 
The furies that entice. 
 
Slower and firmer and steadier !   
 
Relentless, ruthless, still she sways ;   
And the snake-cold stealth and hate of her 
 
Flash in the jewels, and bite, and blaze ;   
While the mystic hand, her minister, 
 
Moves in its fatal ways. 
 
The victim twists and writhes beneath 
 
The scornful spell, the giant grip. 
He rolls his eyes, he grinds his teeth 
 
Like a slave under the whip ;   
And his tortured groans can only wreathe 
 
A sneer upon her lip. 
 
In the half-light her jewels flame 
 
Like stars that presage pestilence. 
O laughterless, O hideous game 
 
Of sterile smiles, of cold incense !   
Her death’s-head grins the gargoyle shame 
 
Of her virile virulence. 
 
Now let the slave gasp out his soul 
 
In the agony supreme !