I Have No Master, Said The Blind Boy, "My Mother, 'Dame Venus' They Do Call; Cowled In This Hood She Sent Me Begging For Whate'Er In Pity May Befall. "Hard Was Her Visage, Me Adjuring, - 'Have No Fond Mercy On The Kind! Here Be Sharp Arrows, Bunched In Quiver, Draw Close Ere Striking - Thou Art Blind.' "So Stand I Here, My Woes Entreating, In This Dark Alley, Lest The Moon Point With Her Sparkling My Barbed Armoury Shine On My Silver-Lac'D Shoon. "Oh, Sir, Unkind This Dame To Me-Ward; Of The Salt Billow Was Her Birth ... In Your Sweet Charity Draw Nearer The Saddest Rogue On Earth!"