O full of candour and compassion, Whom love and worship both would praise, Love cannot frame nor worship fashion The image of your fearless ways!
How show your noble brow's dark pallor, Your chivalrous casque of ebon hair, Your eyes' bright strength, your lips' soft valour, Your supple shoulders and hands that dare?
Our souls when naively you examine, Your sword of innocence, flaming, huge, Sweeps over us, and there is famine Within the ports of subterfuge.
You hate contempt and love not laughter; With your sharp spear of virgin will You harry the wicked strong; but after, O huntress who could never kill,
Should they be trodden down or pierced, Swift, swift, you fly with burning cheek To place your beauty's shield reversed Above the vile defenceless weak!
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