Page:Poems Jackson.djvu/329

As Boon's had run,—not of her own
Resolve, but born of Boon's the strength
Which silent sealed her lips. At length
The one sure pain which torturers know
They tried. No rack, no fire, no blow,
Is dreadful as the screw. At first
Sharp turn it gave, a loud cry burst
From Choy,—
From Choy,—"O Boon, forgive, forgive!
I cannot bear this pain, and live!
And, shrieking out her lover's name,
She cowered before Boon's eyes of flame.
One cry of uttermost despair
From Boon rang out upon the air,
Her fettered arms above her head
She lifted, and fell back as dead.
Ah! true it was, the wife loved best!
How true, that cry of Choy's confessed.
To love which she had so betrayed,
No prayer she for forgiveness made:
On him whom she had thought her life
She called not, but upon his wife.

Swift sped the feet of them who sought
The lover. Ere the noon, they brought
Him also. Boon, with anguished eyes,
Beheld him there. She could not rise,
But, creeping on her hands and feet,
She cried, in tones unearthly sweet,—
"O Lords! O Judges! look at me,
And listen. It was I, not he.