Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/117

Wherefore his limbs were galled with many a stone;
And often he had wrestled all alone
  With their fair beauty, conquering the pride
And various pleasure of them with some quick
  And hard inflicted pain that might abide,—
Assailing all the sense with constant prick
Until the lust or pride fell faint and sick.

Natheless there grew and stayed upon his face
The wonderful unconquerable grace
  Of a young man made beautiful with love;
Because the thought of God was wholly spread
  Like love upon it; and still fair above
All crownèd heads of kings remained his head
Whereon the halo of the Lord was shed.

Ah, how long was it, since the first red rush
Of that surpassing thought made his cheek blush
  With pleasure, as he sat—a tender child—
And wondered at the desert, and the long
  Rough prickly paths that led out to the wild
Where all the men of God, holy and strong,
Had dwelt and purified themselves—how long?—