CXXVII.

"Thou ask'st, if I can love? be this the proof

How much I have loved—that I love not thee!
In this vile garb, the distaff, web, and woof,

Were fitter for me: Love is for the free!

I am not dazzled by this splendid roof;

Whate'er thy power, and great it seems to be,

Heads bow, knees bend, eyes watch around a throne,

And hands obey—our hearts are still our own."

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