CXXXV.

Her rage was but a minute's, and 't was well—

A moment's more had slain her; but the while

It lasted 't was like a short glimpse of Hell:

Nought's more sublime than energetic bile,

Though horrible to see, yet grand to tell,

Like Ocean warring 'gainst a rocky isle;

And the deep passions flashing through her form

Made her a beautiful embodied storm.

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