Classic Poem

Fair daughters of Rene my song
Is not of pride or ire
Fraternal discord, hate and wrong
Burning in life and death so strong.
From rule's accurst desire
That even the flames divided long
Upon their funeral pyre.
But you I sing, of royal birth,
Nurst on one breast like them
Two flowers both lovely blooming forth
From the same parent stem,
Cherished by Heaven beloved by Earth,
Of each a treasured gem.

Sisters of Great Alphonso! ye
Whose native charms and lofty fate
With Goddesses' might likened be,
Or their's of Egypt's royal state,
When Berenice's tresses flew
A votive offering to the skies —
If all the gifts of Heaven to you
To Heaven again like her's should rise,
Not kindly into stars alone
Their flight the planets would outrun,
And make the constellations own
With envy pale their light outshone
By those new rivals of the Sun.

To you I speak, in whom we see
With wondrous concord blend,
Sense, worth, fame, beauty, modesty, —
Imploring you to lend
Compassion to the misery
And sufferings of your friend.
The memory of years gone by
O! let me in your hearts renew —
The scenes, the thoughts o'er which I sigh,
The happy days I spent with you —
And what I ask — and where am I —
And what I was — and why secluded —
Whom did I trust? and who deluded?

Daughters of Heroes and of Kings,
Allow me to recall
These, and a thousand other things
Sad sweet and mournful all!
From me few words — more tears, Grief wrings,
Tears burning as they fall.
For royal halls and festive bowers
Where nobly serving I,
Shared and beguiled your private hours,
Studies and sports I sigh:
And lyre and trump and wreathed flowers —
Nay more — for Freedom — Health — Applause
And even Humanity's lost laws!

Why am I chased from human kind?
What Circe in the lair
Of brutes thus keeps me, spell-confined?
Nests have the birds of air —
The very beasts in caverns find
Shelter and rest and share
At least kind nature's gifts and laws,
For each his food and water draws
From wood and fountain, where,
Wholesome, and pure, and safe, it was
Furnished by Heaven's own care:
And all is bright and blest, because
Freedom and Health are there!

I merit punishment, I own,
I erred I must confess it — yet
The fault was in the tongue alone,
The heart is true — Forgive! — forget!
I beg for mercy, and my woes,
May claim with pity to be heard;
If to my prayers your ears you close
Where can I hope for one kind word
In my extremity of ill?
And if the pang of hope deferred
Arise from discord in your will,
To me must be received again
The fate of Metius [Metis] and the pain.

I pray ye then, renew for me
The charm that made you doubly fair,
In sweet and virtuous harmony
Urging resistlessly my prayer
With him, for whose loved sake I swear,
I more lament my fault than pains
Strange and unheard of, as they are.
And hence his victories and his fame,
Though glorious both in peace and war,
Another trophy yet may claim
Greater than all and nobler far
A pardoned wrong — which I deplore
Who loved him once — and now adore.

Go! Canzon, where the Virtues bide
Fortune , to me resorts no more,
So Faith alone must be your guide!