Page:Works of Voltaire Volume 16.djvu/184

162 Nay, think not that my heart Still nourishes a guilty passion for him; I conquered that long since; yet, dear Ægina, Howe'er the soul may act which virtue guides, Its secret motions, nature's children, still Must force their way: they will not be subdued, But in the folds and windings of the heart, Lurk still, and rush upon us; hid in fires We thought extinguished, from their ashes rise: In the hard conflict, rigid virtue may Resist the passions, but can ne'er destroy them.

How just, and yet how noble is thy grief! Such sentiments!

Jocaste is most wretched; Thou knowest my miseries, and thou knowest my heart, Ægina: twice hath Hymen lit his torch For me, and twice hath changed my slavery, For such it was; the only man I loved, Torn from my arms. Forgive me, ye just gods, The sad remembrance of a conquered passion. Ægina, thou wert witness of our loves, Those ties, alas! dissolved as soon as made: Then Œdipus, my sovereign, sought and gained me, Spite of myself. I took the diadem, Begirt with sorrows. To forget the past Became my duty then; and I obeyed. Thou knowest I stifled every tender thought Of my first love, disguised an aching heart, Drank up my tears, and even from myself Strove to conceal my griefs.