The Beginning of the Story - Page 2 of 25

17   Wickedness struts by, proud and sleek;
Virtue moves on, forlorn and meek;
Reason impotent lies, so meek;
She merely weeps, nor wipes her cheek.

18   What lips yet venture to uphold
The cause of Truth, of Wisdom bold,
Starightway are struck, and stricken cold,
By swords that reap death in their fold.

19   O Greed for wealth, for pow'r, for praise
Which is but fleeing wind in space,
One may to you, these evils trace,
With all the ills I now embrace.

20   For crown of Linceus, and throne,
For dukedom that was Father's own,
Count Adolph, too ambitious grown,
Had crime throughout Albania sown.

21   O Heaven, with Thy tender heart,
Thou seest all – unmoved Thou art?
Thou, whereform Truth and Wisdom start,
Leaveth to friends Thy cause to thwart?

22   Ah, lift that strong right arm ofthine,
Wield Thou the sword of wrath divine,
And all who eveilwise incline –
To them Thy vengeance swift consign!

23   Deaf Thou to me. O Heaven, why?
Thou wouldst not heed my earnest cry?
Unto the wretched such as I,
Must even Thou the ear deny?

24   But yet... Who will presume to trace
The wherefores, God, of Thy dear ways?
Naught is upon this planet's face
But grows by Thy design and grace.

25   What Hand shall now my self sustain?
Where may I weep, and not in vain,
Since Heaven will not attention deign,
However loud I do complain?

26   If these my ills Thy pleasure be,
Then, Heaven, resigned I bow to Thee;
Move only Laura's heart that she
Once in a while might think of me.

27   And midst this anguish and unrest,
A tide immense that I must best,
Laura's recalling her love oppressed
Shall be the bright ray in my breast.

28   My darling's fleetest thought of me,
I count supremest ecstasy,
Above all torments which may be
Devised by man in treachery.

29   In bondage, as I make-believe
Love o'er my slumbering corpse doth grieve,
My very life, I nigh conceive,
Doth immortality achieve.

30   When deep I probe into my mind,
Our mutual love again to find,
Her tears whene'er I grieved or pined,
A joy supplants ache unkind.

31   But woe is me! My hapless fate!
What worth that mutual bliss of late,
If now my love, serene, sedate,
Rests on the lap of some new mate?

32   In Adolph's full, possessive fold,
My darling Laura I behold...
Death, where's your deadening might of old
To numb me to this ache I hold?

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