Breast stormily heaving; heart all but broke
In yet untamed resistance to the yoke
The God would fix, to break mind—human birth—
To bind his messenger from Heav’n to Earth;
While She, though pure, adoring, how not repine,
Identity lost, e’en to be Divine!
’Twas instinct in her that rebelled; not she,
The Prophetess, the Sibyl; for now see
Her wrathful for her master’s honour:—
“Thou,