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Now he knew what death tastes like,
And the wrench and throes of the last hour …
He was torn asunder, and gasping …
And in vision he saw the stunted balsams and the rocks,
And the leash-held girl with her firm feet …
Wild battle began to rage in him, to do it or not to do it:
And he went mad, and shut his eyes, and lifted up his sword,
And would have struck, but through this madness a wilder madness came,
And what he thought an image was a woman's body,
The hand grasping away the sword, and the warm body struggling with his.
In horror, he shrieked out, but now he struggled on.
And a voice cried, “My son! spare me!”
“Down, monster-mother!” he shouted, and opened his eyes,
And stabbed her through the breast.
And the wrench and throes of the last hour …
He was torn asunder, and gasping …
And in vision he saw the stunted balsams and the rocks,
And the leash-held girl with her firm feet …
Wild battle began to rage in him, to do it or not to do it:
And he went mad, and shut his eyes, and lifted up his sword,
And would have struck, but through this madness a wilder madness came,
And what he thought an image was a woman's body,
The hand grasping away the sword, and the warm body struggling with his.
In horror, he shrieked out, but now he struggled on.
And a voice cried, “My son! spare me!”
“Down, monster-mother!” he shouted, and opened his eyes,
And stabbed her through the breast.
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