Drankest without a shudder

In proud humility

Milk from that vast primæval udder

That swells for such as thee,

That flushes him who drinks

Nor shrinks

Of the seats where she doth dwell,

She, whom thou didst confess

Enticed

Thee hot to her throne to press

For the greater glory of Christ

Not all was for thy learning

Nor any mortal's else;

Only for thy discerning

Sporadic syllables

Of those supernal glances

Yet vain was not the adventure,

Reluctant though the prize,

Thou gainedst a debenture

On the fringe of Beauty's eyes;

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