Page:Potipharswifeoth00arnoiala.djvu/21

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POTIPHAR'S WIFE
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I, thy hid handmaid, do thee daily wrongPlaying the mistress. By Ra's morning fire Freed art thou! Make my gift of freedom sweet Lifting this love-sick giver from thy feet!"
XX.With that she poured her black imperial hair In waves upon his sandals. But, he said:"Thou, to whom Egypt's noblest kneel in fear, Mock me not thus, on whom the charge is laidTo guard thee for my Lord; or, if set free,Great lady! Grant my soul his liberty!"
XXI.Silent she rose:—drew him on inwardly Behind the second door, locking it hard: Took from a chest,—cut of the almond-tree— A cirque, with gods and scarabs set in hard: "See now!" she cried: "I crown thee Prince and Lord,Will not those lips, made royal like mine, afford
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