That Duchess Jeanne who lived so long ago,
Whose pictured face and thine are counterparts,
E’en to the shadowy hair, the cheek’s soft curve,
The light of eye, the slow, enchanting smile,—
All song doth say she had a bruisèd heart,
But in God’s sight a height of soul! So thou.
Go thou to Morbec. Leave this Babylon.
Back! from the travelled road thy foot’s upon!
List not unto the music that is played;
Touch not the scarlet flowers, the honey-sweet,