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."