I must only read one other.
I think I'll make it "Judith of Bethulia."
This is a biblical story, not in the canon of the Protestant
Bible, but well-known.
"She saved Israel from the invader.
Beautiful as the flying legend of some
leopard she had not yet chosen her great captain, or Prince
depositary to her flesh, and our defense;
and a wandering beauty is a blade out of its scabbard.
You know how dangerous, gentlemen of threescore?
May you know it yet ten more."
In each fifth line, there's a question asked,
which is answered in a short, sixth line.
"Nor by process of veiling she grew the less fabulous.
Gray or blue veils, we were desperate to study
the invincible emanations of her white body,
and the winds at her ordered raiment were ominous.
Might she walk in the market, sit in the council of soldiers?
Only of the extreme elders.
But a rare chance was the girl's then,
when the Invader trumpeted from the South,
and rumbled from the North, beleaguered the city
from four quarters of the earth, our soldiery too
craven and sick to aid her--
where were the arms could countervail this horde?
Her beauty was the sword.
She sat with the elders, and proved on their blear visage
how bright was the weapon unrusted in her keeping,
while he lay surfeiting on their harvest heaping,
wasting the husbandry of their rarest vintage--
and dreaming of the broad-breasted dames
for concubine?
These floated on his wine.
He was lapped with bay leaves, and grass and fumiter weed,
and from under the wine-film encountered his mortal vision,
for even within his tent she accomplished his derision,
she loosed one veil and another, standing unafraid;
and he perished.
Nor brushed her with even so much as a daisy?
She found his destruction easy.
The heathen have all perished.
The victory was furnished.
We smote them hiding in our vineyards, barns, annexes,
and now their white bones clutter the holes of foxes,
and the chieftain's head with grinning
sockets, and varnished--
is it hung on the sky with a hideous epitaphy?
No, the woman keeps the trophy.
May God send unto our virtuous lady her Prince!
It is stated she went reluctant to that orgy,
yet a madness fevers our young men,
and not the clergy nor the elders
have turned them unto modesty since.
Inflamed by the thought of her naked beauty with desire?
Yes, and chilled with fear and despair."
Thank you.