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That led thee to thy country, raised thee up, It should appear, to rank and riches. I Suffered the cruel destiny that hangs Upon my hapless race; was sold to chains, Dragged out an abject servitude, for long And weary years, till the kind charity Of pious Christians wrought my slow release. And dost thou plead to me, stained and defiled By the embrace of Infidels? I know How sacred female purity would be Within a harem's walls. We are divorced By Heaven's own law. I pity thee; my wealth Shall shield thy future life from misery, But we must never meet again. Before The face of Heaven, I swear, a spotless bride, A faithful, oh most faithful wife, hath dared To call thee husband. We are one; the church,