Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/332

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How your hand trembles ! See, mine is firm. You had spilt it o er my beard Had I not saved it. Thanks. I am strong again. I am very old for such a steady grasp. Why, girl, most men as hoary as thy father Are long since palsied. But my firm touch comes From handling of the brush. I am a painter, The Spagnoletto

Ah, the Spagnoletto, Disgraced, abandoned! My exalted name The laughing-stock of churls; my hearthstone stamped With everlasting shame ; my pride, my fame, Mine honor where are they ? With yon spilt water, Fouled in the dust, sucked by the thirsty air. Now, by Christ s blood, my vengeance shall be huge As mine affront. I will demand full justice From Philip. We will treat as King with King. He shall be stripped of rank and name and wealth,