XIV.
And deep the shame on man’s insensate heart
For later woman doomed to hideous part;
Poor lostling, bowed with worse than brutal woes,—
To her not even dealt the brute’s repose;
Her sweetness sullied, and her frame disgraced,
Soul scarce might light her temple fair defaced,—
Its chastest sanctities coerced to give
For painful bread to eat, for piteous chance to live.