Page:Poems - volume 1 - EBBrowning (1844).pdf/269

 I would kneel down where I stand, and say—'Behold me! I am worthy Of thy loving, for I love thee! I am worthy as a king.'

"As it is—your ermined pride, I swear, shall feel this stain upon her— That I, poor, weak, tost with passion, scorned by me and you again, Love you, Madam—dare to love you—to my grief and your dishonour— To my endless desolation, and your impotent disdain!"

More mad words like these—mere madness! friend, I need not write them fuller; And I hear my hot soul dropping on the lines in showers of tears— Oh, a woman! friend, a woman! Why, a beast had scarce been duller, Than roar bestial loud complaints against the shining of the spheres.