XXVII.
Grievous the hurt to woman, which to right
Is instant duty of our stronger sight;
From off her weary shoulders, bruised and worn,
To lift the cross in longtime misery borne;
Until, reintegrate in frame and mind,
A speedy restitution she shall find,
From every trammel of man’s mastery freed,
Nor held by his behest from fullest life and deed.