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But the Child, ah, fragile creature! the riband's scarlet gleam
Fell into its pale cheek as a shadow in a stream.
Seraph, half-unfleshed already! with the glimmer of the day
Will it not fall to shade, to air, thin out, and pass away?
And this the seed of such a Sire? Could Love no more than this,
When all the soul stretched all the flesh to span the fruitful bliss?
What poison held thy manly strength? What spell besate the hour?
Behold, the oak a lily breeds, the tree begets a flower!
Ah, mutual bondage of true love! Ah, spiritual sway
That guides the blinder sense on its Heaven-appointed way!
What do not thy pale cheeks, child, thy puny limbs impart
Of the feeble girl who overcame thy father's lusty heart?
Beautiful to see and think how the power of heart and mind
Can lead the lion passions and the savage pulse of kind!
