Page:Verses–Blanche·Baughan-1898.pdf/102

 Yet round him—Christ! how the Briars rave, The snaky Briars, The venom’d Briars!

Now he treadeth the first high hall, Where Judge and Poet, Scholar and King, Loll in the web of a subtle thrall, Stifled by wreaths that catch and cling. Ay, catch and cling, for ye soon shall fall, Ye cozening Briars, Ye choking Briars!

What of the inner chamber there? . . . O pitiful chamber, place of ruth! Paven all with maidens fair, Strewn with the bodyguard of Truth, Caught, at her door, in the dreamy snare Of the kissing Briars, The smothering Briars!