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See, Helen! pushed in front o' the world's worst night and storm, By Lady Venus' hand on shoulder: the sweet form Shrinkingly prominent, though mighty, like a moon Outbreaking from a cloud, to put harsh things in tune, And magically bring mankind to acquiesce In its own ravage,--call no curse upon, but bless (Beldame, a moment since) the outbreaking beauty, now, That casts o'er all the blood a candor from her brow. See, Cleopatra! bared, the entire and sinuous wealth O' the shining shape; each orb of indolent ripe health, Captured, just where it finds a fellow-orb as fine I' the body: traced about by jewels which outline, Fire-frame, and keep distinct, perfections--lest they melt To soft smooth unity ere half their hold be felt: Yet, o'er that white and wonder, a soul's predominance I' the head so high and haught--except one thievish glance, From back of oblong eye, intent to count the slain. Hush,--oh, I know, Elvire! Be patient, more remain! What say you to Saint? ... Pish! Whatever Saint you please, Cold-pinnacled aloft o' the spire, prays calm the seas From Pornic Church, and oft at midnight (peasants say) Goes walking out to save from shipwreck: well she may! For think how many a year has she been conversant With naught but winds and rains, sharp courtesy and scant O' the wintry snow that coats the pent-house of her shrine, Covers each knee, climbs near, but spares the smile benign Which seems to say, "I looked for scarce so much from earth!" She follows, one long thin pure finger in the girth O' the girdle--whence the folds of garment, eye and eye, Besprent with fleurs-de-lys, flow down and multiply Around her feet,--and one, pressed hushingly to lip: As if, while thus we made her march, some foundering ship Might miss her from her post, nearer to God halfway In heaven, and she inquired, "Who that treads earth can pray? I doubt if even she, the unashamed! though, sure, She must have stripped herself only to clothe the poor."