The sacrificer of his daughter — strange! —He dared become, to expediteWoman-avenging warfare, — anchors weighedWith such prelusive rite! Prayings and callings Father — naught they madeOf these, and of the virgin-age, —Captains heart-set on war to wage!His ministrants, vows done, the father bade —Kid-like, above the altar, swathed in pall,Take her — lift high, and have no fear at all,Head-downward, and the fair mouth’s guardAnd frontage hold, — press hardFrom utterance a curse against the House By dint of bit-violence bridling speech.And as to ground her saffron-vest she shed,She smote the sacrificers all and eachWith arrow sweet and piteous,From the eye only sped, —Significant of will to use a word,Just as in pictures: since, full many a time,