--Yet thus I hate them,
With all that bitter agony of soul
Which is the punishment of fiends. Alas!
It was my high ambition, to hold sway,
Sole, paramount, unquestion'd, o'er a third
Of Heaven's resplendent legions:--Power and glory
Dwelt on them, like an elemental essence
That could not be destroyed.--I could not deem
That aught could so extinguish the pure fire
Of their sun-like beauty--yet 'tis changed!--
I gain'd them to my wish, and they are grown
Too hateful to be look'd on.--Thus I've seen
The frail fair dupe of amorous perfidy,
The victim of a smile,--by man beguiled--
Won to debasement, and then left in loathing:--
Alas! I cannot leave my fatal conquest!--
Man! would I were the humblest mortal wretch,
That crawls beneath yon shadowing temple's tower,
Under the sky of Canaan; so I might
Lay down this weight of sceptred misery,
And fly for ever from myself and these!
But Pride reproves the wish; and--it is useless;
The unatonable deeds of ages rise
Like clouds between me and the throne of Grace.
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