Page:Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, 1846).djvu/14

4 I, who for grief have wept my eye-sight dim;

Because, while life for me was bright and young,

He robbed my youth—­he quenched my life's fair ray—

He crushed my mind, and did my freedom slay.

And at this hour—­although I be his wife—

He has no more of tenderness from me

Than any other wretch of guilty life;

Less, for I know his household privacy—

I see him as he is—­without a screen;

And, by the gods, my soul abhors his mien!

Has he not sought my presence, dyed in blood—

Innocent, righteous blood, shed shamelessly?

And have I not his red salute withstood?

Aye,—­when, as erst, he plunged all Galilee

In dark bereavement—­in affliction sore,

Mingling their very offerings with their gore.

Then came he—­in his eyes a serpent-smile,

Upon his lips some false, endearing word,

And, through the streets of Salem, clanged the while,

His slaughtering, hacking, sacrilegious sword—

And I, to see a man cause men such woe,

Trembled with ire—­I did not fear to show.

And now, the envious Jewish priests have brought

Jesus—­whom they in mockery call their king—