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"'Tis our desire—our duty to obey
Our lord's high will—to honour his behest;
But here 'tis hard—no more I dare to say—
'Tis hard—our silence, prince, must speak the rest;
Yet will I add, that there is many a maiden
Of noble blood, with wealth and honours laden,
Who might—thou hast preferr'd a peasant low
To noble ladies, for it pleas'd thee so.
"So it hath pleas'd thee—but thou hast forgot
The usage of thy sires—and as we trust
Thy sons—a peasant's blood may mingle not
With a patrician's—look around—there must
Amidst thy court, be some fair lady, worthy—
That we may hold the nuptial banner o'er thee:
Yet think—yet think a moment, lest foul shame
Should taint the glory of thy father's name.
"Prince! prince! can'st thou forget thine ancestry?
Hast thou no memory of departed days?
And is my father's name unknown to thee?
That name which well may dazzle by its blaze—
