It is bewitched, a bloodless, breathless form,
For men to look upon it is not good.
Its fixèd gaze hath power to freeze the blood,
And petrify thee stark and stiff.
Of course I need not ask you if
You’ve heard of the Medusa’s head.
Faust.
In truth I see the eyes of one that’s dead,
On which no closing hand of love was laid.
That is my Margaret’s kindly breast,