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As oft perhaps by obstinate resistance.

Then let us perish, if it be our fate.

When thou art almost in the harbor, thus To brave the storm is false and fatal courage: Kind heaven, thou seest, points out to thee the means To soften this proud tyrant; fair Palmira, Thy beautous captive, brought up in the camp Of this destructive conqueror, was sent By gracious heaven, the messenger of peace, Thy guardian angel, to appease the wrath Of Mahomet; already by his herald He has demanded her.

And wouldst thou have me Give up so fair a prize to this barbarian? What! whilst the tyrant spreads destruction round him, Unpeoples kingdoms, and destroys mankind, Shall beauty’s charms be sacrificed to bribe A madman’s frenzy? I should envy him That lovely fair one more than all his glory; Not that I feel the stings of wild desire, Or, in the evening of my days, indulge, Old as I am, a shameless passion for her; But, whether objects born like her to please, Spite of ourselves, demand our tenderest pity, Or that perhaps a childless father hopes To find in her another daughter, why I know not, but for that unhappy maid Still am I anxious; be it weakness in me,