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Rasinga, thou art robb'd and thou art wrong'd, And hast good cause to utter stormy words.

Ay, and good cause to back those stormy words With stormy blows, which soon shall force that gate, Make desp'rate entrance through the rifted walls, And leave within your paltry tower, of all Who dare oppose my arms, no living thing, Unless thou do restore the mountain beauty, And all the spoil thou hast so basely won.

Though I have dared to wrong thee, brave Rasinga, I've done it in the heat and agony Of passions that, within a generous breast, Are irresistible, and, be assured, With no weak calculations of impunity. The living treasure I have robbed thee of I will defend to the extremity Of desp'rate effort, ev'n in this poor hold, Mann'd as it is.—I well might speak to thee Of equal claims to that fair beauty's favour; Of secret love; of strong fraternal sympathy