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Did I not hear thee singing, as I came, The song my dear Artina loves to hear?

Ev'n so, good lady; many a time I sang it When first I was attendant in her bower; Ere, at your own desire, and for my honour, She did resign me to your higher service.

Sing it no more: alas! she thought not then Of its contain'd allusions to a fate Which now abides herself.

No, not her fate; you surely mean not so: She is a happy wife, the only wife Of brave Rasinga, honour'd and beloved.

She was and is as yet his only wife.

As yet his only wife! and think you then She will not so continue?

Sabawatté, It grieves me much to tell thee what perforce