CXXV.

At length, in an imperial way, she laid

Her hand on his, and bending on him eyes

Which needed not an empire to persuade,

Looked into his for love, where none replies:

Her brow grew black, but she would not upbraid,

That being the last thing a proud woman tries;

She rose, and pausing one chaste moment threw

Herself upon his breast, and there she grew.

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