POTIPHAR'S WIFE
11
I, thy hid handmaid, do thee daily wrong
Playing the mistress. By Ra's morning fire
Freed art thou! Make my gift of freedom sweet
Lifting this love-sick giver from thy feet!"
Playing the mistress. By Ra's morning fire
Freed art thou! Make my gift of freedom sweet
Lifting this love-sick giver from thy feet!"
XX.
With that she poured her black imperial hair
In waves upon his sandals. But, he said:
"Thou, to whom Egypt's noblest kneel in fear,
Mock me not thus, on whom the charge is laid
To guard thee for my Lord; or, if set free,
Great lady! Grant my soul his liberty!"
With that she poured her black imperial hair
In waves upon his sandals. But, he said:
"Thou, to whom Egypt's noblest kneel in fear,
Mock me not thus, on whom the charge is laid
To guard thee for my Lord; or, if set free,
Great lady! Grant my soul his liberty!"
XXI.
Silent she rose:—drew him on inwardly
Behind the second door, locking it hard:
Took from a chest,—cut of the almond-tree—
A cirque, with gods and scarabs set in hard:
"See now!" she cried: "I crown thee Prince and Lord,
Will not those lips, made royal like mine, afford
Silent she rose:—drew him on inwardly
Behind the second door, locking it hard:
Took from a chest,—cut of the almond-tree—
A cirque, with gods and scarabs set in hard:
"See now!" she cried: "I crown thee Prince and Lord,
Will not those lips, made royal like mine, afford
