One charm of beauty to herself unknown,
One brightness in the deepest solitude,
One last, one utter mystery of spell
That lives for them and now would live for me.
’Tis true I would not cheat them of revenge
Should I take stolen sippings from the chalice
That for them only brims and sparkles o’er;
The air with sudden bruit would soon be ringing
And Helios, at the inciting beckon of flame
From wrathful Aphrodite all afired,