A Ballad of Fair Ladies in Revolt: XLI

—Hear, then, my friend, madam! Tongue-restrained he stands
Till words are thoughts, and thoughts, like swords enriched
With traceries of the artificer’s hands,
Are fire-proved steel to cut, fair flowers to view.—
Do I hear him? Oh, he is bewitched, bewitched!
Heed him not! Traitress beauties you!