Classic Poem

But didst thou not relent? our pity asks;
Didst thou not shudder at that daring deed?
Though voices from the flagons and the flasks
Bad thee and the slain prophet's head good speed
To the Queen's chamber? Herod rued his oath,
And shudder'd in the net his hands had drawn
About himself, and wish'd his vow unsworn:
And was the tender maiden nothing loth
To lend herself to that foul deed of hate,
Whose issue is the world's eternal blame?
Didst thou not rather bend, in silent shame,
O'er the cold lips, so eloquent of late,
From which the breath of holy anger came
As pure as the wild honey which he ate?