CXLIX.

He woke and gazed, and would have slept again,

But the fair face which met his eyes forbade

Those eyes to close, though weariness and pain

Had further sleep a further pleasure made:

For Woman's face was never formed in vain

For Juan, so that even when he prayed

He turned from grisly saints, and martyrs hairy,

To the sweet portraits of the Virgin Mary.

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