Emblems Of Love

Lascelles Abercrombie

Capitolo 85

Almost fails, as a storm stormed sky
From his/her inside fire;  and I now feel
You love as a terrible god that comes to do
His/her pleasure on me, to lacerate me with his/her joy
And it does tattered my meat-plotted strength with merciless
Expression through me of inhuman beatitude.--
I have to have more divinities inside me.--
Come to me, enslaved!  [_Calling out to his/her attendants_.

_Judith_.
     You the callest someone? Alas!
Or, where is my veil?--Cry him/it to be a little!--

_Holofernes_.
You shaken with such whimsy!--But 'the tis anybody,
A the what asexual mere of mine.

_Judith_.
     He is coming!
Did I throw my veil--where?--I have to arch me the face
Next to the earth, or its eyes will discover me;
And--Or my gentleman, holds again it with voice of thy!
     [_She has knelt down_.
Hold him/it uncertain to digitize a moment, while
I loosen my hair in of the way of the safety
Against his investigating.

_Holofernes_.
     Do you work as a slave, dost you feel me? Come!--
I marvel me, lodgings for such humor that quibbles
You/he/she should be inside thy you mind, now so almost
Deified with the first sense of my love.
     [Eunuch of _A comes to in_.

_Holofernes_.
Wine! The mightiest wine that my sutlerses have;
Wine with his/her own grandeur of the sun in everybody and he
The savageness of the earth that conceives Spring
From the gilded lust of the sun:  wine for us two!
And when you hasts brought him/it, anear of the scorching my bed
Storax and cassia;  and it made wealth is found
To cover my bed with such conflict of colour,
Crimson and bronzy and it redden-inhaled gold,
That looks at seeing therefrom you/he/she can pick him/it up
The splendid imagination of the conflict
Of love with the implacable desire of love.

_Judith (still the kneeling)_.
I now have to tilt me on thee, my God! A weight
Of the compassionate weakness you it has to be born
And it stirs as is thine his/her own strength;  says my heart
As not to get sick in disgust,
The way of abhorring shows me the anger of this scurvy man,
Now near to grab me in the use of his/her pleasure,
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