Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/117

 Wherefore his limbs were galled with many a stone; And often he had wrestled all alone With their fair beauty, conquering the pride And various pleasure of them with some quick And hard inflicted pain that might abide,— Assailing all the sense with constant prick Until the lust or pride fell faint and sick.

Natheless there grew and stayed upon his face The wonderful unconquerable grace Of a young man made beautiful with love; Because the thought of God was wholly spread Like love upon it; and still fair above All crownèd heads of kings remained his head Whereon the halo of the Lord was shed.

Ah, how long was it, since the first red rush Of that surpassing thought made his cheek blush With pleasure, as he sat—a tender child— And wondered at the desert, and the long Rough prickly paths that led out to the wild Where all the men of God, holy and strong, Had dwelt and purified themselves—how long?—