Bound to hold a rod over her shrinking shoulders
all the day and all the night to turn the whell of false desire
and longings death wake her womb.

To the ahborred birth of cherubs
in the human form that live a pestilence an die.
A meteor and are no more
till child dwell with one he hates, and do the deed he loathes.

And the impure scourge forge his seed
its unripe birth e'er yet his eyelids can behold the arrows...