“Who, who hath wronged thee? And my power atones.”
“She who now doth flee, shall soon pursue thee;
She who spurns thy gifts, with gifts shall woo thee;
She who loves not, she shall cleave unto thee,
Thou the unwilling!”
Peer of Gods is he, equal soul to theirs,
Who lingers in thy passionate embrace:
Whose languor-laden kiss
Cleaves where thy bosom is
A throne of beauty for thy throat and face!