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Rh

If riches are thine object, here are gems Would prove a monarch's ransom; all my wealth Is freely thine: in distant kingdoms blaze, With eastern splendor; leave me a poor hut, And the most precious treasures of my soul. Waste not the time in idle words—I sought The fond protection of my husband's arms. He hath denied my suit; but Justice still Reigns upon earth enthroned; my cause is linked With sacred attributes; an injured wife, A helpless woman will not plead in vain. Across the Arno, where Zenaldi's gate Opes to the sufferer's tale, I'll speed my way; Unlike his cruel sire, who wrought the fall Of my unhappy father, he will aid The righteous cause. My brother hath obtained A safe asylum in his broad domains, And I will rush amid his marble halls, And tell my piercing wrongs.