Giving reins to her lust!” What shame should not be loaded on me?
Ah me, my infatuate folly!—better by far should it be
In this same night to forsake my life these chambers within
By a fate of mystery, ’scaping from slander’s fiendish din, {800}
Or ever that hideous befouling, that nameless defilement, I win!’
She spake, and she rose, and a casket she brought, wherein there lay
Many a drug, some helpful to heal, some mighty to slay.
On her knees she laid it, and brake into weeping: her bosom-fold
Was wet with her tears; from the wounds unstanched of her heart they rolled,
As she bitterly wailed for her fate: and her soul was exceeding fain