Page 2288 - Shakespeare - Vol. 4

Her azure veins, her alablaster skin,
Her coral lips, her snow-white dimpled chin. [420]

As the grim lion fawneth o’er his prey,
Sharp hunger by the conquest satisfied;
So o’er this sleeping soul doth Tarquin stay,

His rage of lust by gazing qualified, −
Slak’d not suppress’d, for standing by her side, [425]
His eye which late this mutiny restrains,

Unto a greater uproar tempts his veins.

And they like straggling slaves for pillage fighting,

Obdurate vassals fell exploits effecting,
In bloody death and ravishment delighting, [430]
Nor children’s tears nor mothers’ groans respecting,

Swell in their pride, the onset still expecting.
Anon his beating heart, alarum striking,
Gives the hot charge, and bids them do their liking.

His drumming heart cheers up his burning eye, [435]
His eye commends the leading to his hand;

His hand, as proud of such a dignity,
Smoking with pride, march’d on to make his stand
On her bare breast, the heart of all her land;
Whose ranks of blue veins, as his hand did scale, [440]

Left their round turrets destitute and pale.

They must’ring to the quiet cabinet
Where their dear governess and lady lies,
Do tell her she is dreadfully beset,
And fright her with confusion of their cries. [445]

She much amaz’d, breaks ope her lock’d-up eyes,
Who peeping forth this tumult to behold,
Are by his flaming torch dimm’d and controll’d.

Imagine her as one in dead of night,
From forth dull sleep by dreadful fancy waking, [450]