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A veil translucent o'er her brow display'd,
Her beauty seems, and only seems, to shade:
Sudden she lightens in their dazzled eyes,
And sudden flames in every bosom rise;
They send their eager souls with every look.
Till silence thus the imperial matron broke:
"
O why! my son, why now no more appears
That warmth of soul that urged thy younger years?
Thy riper days no growing worth impart,
A man in stature, still a boy in heart!
Thy well-knit frame unprofitably strong,
Speaks thee a hero, from a hero sprung:
But the just gods in vain those gifts bestow,
O wise alone in form, and grave in show!
Heavens! could a stranger feel oppression's hand
Beneath thy roof, and couldst thou tamely stand!
If thou the stranger's righteous cause decline
His is the sufferance, but the shame is thine."
To whom, with filial awe, the prince returns:
"That generous soul with just resentment burns;
Yet, taught by time, my heart has learn'd to glow
For others' good, and melt at others' woe;
But, impotent those riots to repel,
I bear their outrage, though my soul rebel;
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