Themistocles | ||
119
SCENE IX.
Aspasiaalone.
Then all my hope that now remains, is this,
To give my hand to Xerxes.—O! Aspasia,
What grief, ye Powers! what cruel fate is thine.
To give my hand to Xerxes.—O! Aspasia,
What grief, ye Powers! what cruel fate is thine.
The heart that gentle love retains,
Must mourn when doom'd with other chains
Of tyrant bondage to comply.
Life is not life in such a state,
Compell'd to yield to vows we hate.
And pity, where we love, deny.
Must mourn when doom'd with other chains
Of tyrant bondage to comply.
Life is not life in such a state,
Compell'd to yield to vows we hate.
And pity, where we love, deny.
[Exit.
Themistocles | ||