She has the eyes of some barbarian Queen Leading her wild tribes into battle; eyes, Wherein th' unconquerable soul defies, And Love sits throned, imperious and serene. And I have thought that Liberty, alone Among the mountain stars, might look like her, Kneeling to GOD, her only emperor, Kindling her torch on Freedom's altar-stone. For in her self, regal with riches of Beauty and youth, again those Queens seem born— Boadicea, meeting scorn with scorn, And Ermengarde, returning love for love. |