Classic Poem

Sisters of great Alphonso! to the west
Three times have sped the coursers of the Sun
Since sick and outraged, I became a jest
And sighed o'er all that cruel Fate had done.
Wretched and vile whatever meets my eye
Without me—wheresoe'er I gaze around,
Within indeed, my former virtues lie
Though shame and torment's the reward they've found.
Aye! in my Soul are Truth and Honor still
Such as if seen the world were proud to own,
And your sweet images my bosom fill;
But lovely idols ne'er content alone
True hearts—and mine, though mocked and scorned at will,
Is still your temple, altar, shrine and throne.