Remember, or (if you can not) imagine, Ye! who have kept your chastity when young, While some more desperate dowager has been waging Love with you, and been in the dog-days stung[fo] By your refusal, recollect her raging! Or recollect all that was said or sung On such a subject; then suppose the face Of a young downright beauty in this case! CXXXI. Suppose,--but you already have supposed, The spouse of Potiphar, the Lady Booby,[307] Phaedra,[308] and all which story has disclosed Of good examples; pity that so few by Poets and private tutors are exposed,[fp] To educate--ye youth of Europe--you by! But when you have supposed the few we know, You can't suppose Gulbeyaz' angry brow. CXXXII. A tigress robbed of young, a lioness, Or any interesting beast of prey, Are similes at hand for the distress Of ladies who can _not_ have their own way; But though my turn will not be served with less, These don't express one half what I should say: For what is stealing young ones, few or many, To cutting short their hope of having _any?_ CXXXIII. The love of offspring's Nature's general law, From tigresses and cubs to ducks and ducklings; There's nothing whets the beak, or arms the claw Like an invasion of their babes and sucklings; And all who have seen a human nursery, saw How mothers love their children's squalls and chucklings: This strong extreme effect (to tire no longer Your patience) shows the cause must still be stronger.[fq] CXXXIV. If I said fire flashed from Gulbeyaz' eyes, 'T were nothing--for her eyes flashed always fire; Or said her cheeks assumed the deepest dyes, I should but bring disgrace upon the dyer, So supernatural was her passion's rise; For ne'er till now she knew a checked desire: Even ye who know what a checked woman is (Enough, God knows!) would much fall short of this. CXXXV. Her rage was but a minute's, and 't was well-- A moment's more had slain her; but the while It lasted 't was like a short glimpse of Hell: Nought's more sublime than energetic bile, Though horrible to see, yet grand to tell, Like Ocean warring 'gainst a rocky isle; And the deep passions flashing through her form Made her a beautiful embodied storm. CXXXVI. A vulgar tempest 't were to a typhoon To match a common fury with her rage, And yet she did not want to reach the moon,[309] Like moderate Hotspur on the immortal page;[fr] Her anger pitched into a lower tune, Perhaps the fault of her soft sex and age-- Her wish was but to "kill, kill, kill," like Lear's,[310] And then her thirst of blood was quenched in tears. CXXXVII.