Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/88

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There dwelt at Bethlehem a Jewish maidAnd Zillah was her name, so passing fairThat all Judea spake the damsel's praise.He who had seen her eyes' dark radianceHow quick it spake the soul, and what a soulBeam'd in its mild effulgence, woe was he!For not in solitude, for not in crowds,Might he escape remembrance, or avoidHer imaged form that followed every where,And fill'd the heart, and fix'd the absent eye.Woe was he, for her bosom own'd no loveSave the strong ardours of religious zeal,For Zillah on her God had centered allHer spirit's deep affections. So for herHer tribes-men sigh'd in vain, yet reverencedThe obdurate virtue that destroyed their hopes.
One man there was, a vain and wretched man,Who saw, desired, despair'd, and hated her.His sensual eye had gloated on her cheek
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