She leaped for joy, and made great haste to try
Their force—well pleased to hear a deeper groan.
The supplicating hand of innocence,
That made the tiger mild, and, in its wrath,
The lion pause, the groans of suffering most
Severe, were nought to her; she laughed at groans,
No music pleased her more, and no repast
So sweet to her, as blood of men redeemed
By blood of Christ. Ambition's self, though mad,
And nursed on human gore, with her compared,