’Tis the old taint!

Said Julian mournfully; from her mother’s womb

She brought the inbred wickedness which now

In ripe infection blossoms. Woman, woman,

Still to the Goths art thou the instrument

Of overthrow; thy virtue and thy vice

Fatal alike to them!

Say rather, cried

The insidious renegade, that Allah thus

By woman punisheth the idolatry