But as the Queen fared through the blinded hour,
Sudden against the darkness of her eyes
There came a wind of light. Crimson it was,
With smokey lightnings braided, in its first
Swift surge into the gloom before her face;
But it began to golden, and became
Astonishingly white. And as she stood
With rigour in her nerves, a mighty shudder
Ravish the light, and in the midst appeared
Vision, a goddess, terrible and kind;
And to the Queen the goddess spoke, in voice
That healed her anger with its quietness.
_Ishtar_.
I am the goddess Ishtar, and thou art
My servant. Wilt any of thou help me?
_Vashti_.
Am I then one whom gods may help? I am
By men judged hateful: surely I am thereby
Made over to the demons, and not thine.
_Ishtar_.
Yet art thou mine, because thou knowest well
Thou disobeyest me.
_Vashti_.
How do I so?
_Ishtar_.
I am the goddess of the power of women,
And passion in the hearts of men is my
Divinity.
_Vashti_.
Yea, then I disobey thee.
_Ishtar_.
And yet thou shalt not fear me wronging thee:
Tell me, O thou Despair, whither thou goest?
_Vashti_.
Thy taunt goes past me; I am not despair.
_Ishtar_.
Verily, but thou art. Is not thy mind
A hot revolter from the service due
To my divinity, passion in men's hearts?
Is there aught else that thou mayst serve? Thou knowest
There is naught else: therefore thou art Despair.
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