XV
To disentangle one clear wish
Not of her sex, she sought;
And womanish to womanish
Discerned in lighted thought.
XVI
With Louis’ chance it went not well
When at herself she raged;
A woman, of whom men might tell
She doted, crazed and aged.
XVII
Or else enamoured of a sweet
Withdrawn, a vengeful crone!
And say, what figure at her feet
Is this that utters moan?
XVIII
The Countess Louis from her head
Drew veil: ‘Great Lady, hear!
My husband deems you Justice dread,
I know you Mercy dear.
XIX
‘His error upon him may fall;
He will not breathe a nay.
I am his helpless mate in all,
Except for grace to pray.