Old Kraken’s look hard Winter wears
When sweeps the wild snow-blast:
He had the hug of Arctic bears
For captives he held fast.
II
I
Archduchess Anne sat carved in frost,
Shut off from priest and spouse.
Her lips were locked, her arms were crossed,
Her eyes were in her brows.
II
One hand enclosed a paper scroll,
Held as a strangled asp.
So may we see the woman’s soul
In her dire tempter’s grasp.
III
Along that scroll Count Louis’ doom
Throbbed till the letters flamed.
She saw him in his scornful bloom,
She saw him chained and shamed.
IV
Around that scroll Count Louis’ fate
Was acted to her stare,
And hate in love and love in hate
Fought fell to smite or spare.