Page:Oriental Sketches Dramatic Sketches and Tales.pdf/183

Rh

Bend kindly on me, hear the gentle sound Of thy sweet voice—what would I not forgive? Read o'er my heart, I will not hide one thought. The earliest sorrow, Helen, of my youth, My father caused—a stern ambitious man: Born a patrician, he had climbed to power, And those who valued the Republic, feared His giant strides would lead him to a throne. All who opposed him sank beneath his feet; And one, who struggled hard to clip his wings, Too boldly venturous, o'erstepped the law, And fell its victim—in one person, judge! Accuser! enemy!—his fate was sealed— My father was implacable. Indeed! And thou his son? I clung about his knees, Besought, intreated, prayed him to relent?