Book IV: Song II: The Bondage of Passion

59 of 80 · 1 min of reading

When high-enthroned the monarch sits, resplendent in the pride

Of purple robes, while flashing steel guards him on every side;

When baleful terrors on his brow with frowning menace lower,

And Passion shakes his labouring breast--how dreadful seems his power!

But if the vesture of his state from such a one thou tear,

Thou'lt see what load of secret bonds this lord of earth doth wear.

Lust's poison rankles; o'er his mind rage sweeps in tempest rude;

Sorrow his spirit vexes sore, and empty hopes delude.

Then thou'lt confess: one hapless wretch, whom many lords oppress,

Does never what he would, but lives in thraldom's helplessness.

· · ·

End of part 59 of 80