Thrice he began, and thrice was forced to stay, } Till words with often trying found their way:-- } I thought, O Sigismonda, (but how blind Are parents' eyes, their children's faults to find!) Thy virtue, birth, and breeding, were above A mean desire, and vulgar sense of love; Nor less than sight and hearing could convince } So fond a father, and so just a prince, } Of such an unforeseen and unbelieved offence. } Then what indignant sorrow must I have, To see thee lie subjected to my slave! A man so smelling of the people's lee, The court received him first for charity; And since with no degree of honour graced, But only suffered, where he first was placed. A grovelling insect still; and so designed By nature's hand, nor born of noble kind: A thing, by neither man nor woman prized, And scarcely known enough to be despised. To what has heaven reserved my age? Ah! why Should man, when nature calls, not chuse to die, Rather than stretch the span of life, to find Such ills as fate has wisely cast behind, For those to feel, whom fond desire to live Makes covetous of more than life can give! Each has his share of good; and when 'tis gone, The guest, though hungry, cannot rise too soon. But I, expecting more, in my own wrong Protracting life, have lived a day too long. If yesterday could be recalled again, Even now would I conclude my happy reign; But 'tis too late, my glorious race is run, And a dark cloud o'ertakes my setting sun. Had'st thou not loved, or, loving, saved the shame, If not the sin, by some illustrious name, This little comfort had relieved my mind, 'Twas frailty, not unusual to thy kind: But thy low fall beneath thy royal blood, Shews downward appetite to mix with mud. Thus not the least excuse is left for thee, Nor the least refuge for unhappy me. For him I have resolved; whom by surprise I took, and scarce can tell it, in disguise; For such was his attire, as, with intent Of nature, suited to his mean descent: The harder question yet remains behind, } What pains a parent and a prince can find } To punish an offence of this degenerate kind. } As I have loved, and yet I love thee more Than ever father loved a child before, So that indulgence draws me to forgive: Nature, that gave thee life, would have thee live. But, as a public parent of the state, My justice, and thy crime, requires thy fate. Fain would I choose a middle course to steer; Nature's too kind, and justice too severe: Speak for us both, and to the balance bring On either side the father and the king. Heaven knows, my heart is bent to favour thee; Make it but scanty weight, and leave the rest to me.-- Here stopping with a sigh, he poured a flood Of tears, to make his last expression good. She, who had heard him speak, nor saw alone The secret conduct of her love was known,