I am the queen Semiramis. The whole world and the sea that is In fashion like a chrysopras, The noise of all men labouring, The priest's mouth tired through thanksgiving, The sound of love in the blood's pause, The strength of love in the blood's beat, All these were cast beneath my feet And all found lesser than I was. HESIONE I am the queen Hesione. The seasons that increased in me Made my face fairer than all men's. I had the summer in my hair; And all the pale gold autumn air Was as the habit of my sense. My body was as fire that shone; God's beauty that makes all things one Was one among my handmaidens. CHRYSOTHEMIS I am the queen of Samothrace. God, making roses, made my face As a rose filled up full with red. My prows made sharp the straitened seas From Pontus to that Chersonese Whereon the ebbed Asian stream is shed. My hair was as sweet scent that drips; Love's breath begun about my lips Kindled the lips of people dead. THOMYRIS I am the queen of Scythians. My strength was like no strength of man's, My face like day, my breast like spring. My fame was felt in the extreme land That hath sunshine on the one hand And on the other star-shining. Yea, and the wind there fails of breath; Yea, and there life is waste like death; Yea, and there death is a glad thing. HARHAS I am the queen of Anakim. In the spent years whose speech is dim, Whose raiment is the dust and death, My stately body without stain Shone as the shining race of rain Whose hair a great wind scattereth. Now hath God turned my lips to sighs, Plucked off mine eyelids from mine eyes, And sealed with seals my way of breath. MYRRHA I am the queen Arabian. The tears wherewith mine eyelids ran Smelt like my perfumed eyelids' smell. A harsh thirst made my soft mouth hard, That ached with kisses afterward; My brain rang like a beaten bell. As tears on eyes, as fire on wood, Sin fed upon my breath and blood, Sin made my breasts subside and swell. PASIPHAE I am the queen Pasiphae. Not all the pure clean-coloured sea Could cleanse or cool my yearning veins; Nor any root nor herb that grew, Flag-leaves that let green water through, Nor washing of the dews and rains. From shame's pressed core I wrung the sweet Fruit's savour that was death to eat, Whereof no seed but death remains. SAPPHO I am the queen of Lesbians. My love, that had no part in man's, Was sweeter than all shape of sweet. The intolerable infinite desire Made my face pale like faded fire When the ashen pyre falls through with heat. My blood was hot wan wine of love, And my song's sound the sound thereof, The sound of the delight of it. MESSALINA