Page:Poems, Alan Seeger, 1916.djvu/174

 They of fair ladies those that loveliest shone,

Of tender maidens they the tenderest bore,

And, drowned in tears and making piteous moan,

Left for that ravening beast, chained on the rocks alone.

Thither transported by enchanter's art,

Angelica from dreams most innocent

(As the tale mentioned in another part)

Awoke, the victim for that sad event.

Beauty so rare, nor birth so excellent,

Nor tears that make sweet Beauty lovelier still,

Could turn that people from their harsh intent.

Alas, what temper is conceived so ill

But, Pity moving not, Love's soft enthralment will?

On the cold granite at the ocean's rim

These folk had chained her fast and gone their way;

Fresh in the softness of each delicate limb

The pity of their bruising violence lay.

Over her beauty, from the eye of day

To hide its pleading charms, no veil was thrown.

Only the fragments of the salt sea-spray

Rose from the churning of the waves, wind-blown,

To dash upon a whiteness creamier than their own.

Carved out of candid marble without flaw,

Or alabaster blemishless and rare,

Ruggiero might have fancied what he saw,

For statue-like it seemed, and fastened there 124