Siroes | ||
198
SCENE VII.
Cosroesalone.
No, Cosroes, no—thou canst no longer doubt,
And Siroes is the traitor.—Justice now
Should sentence guilt; but O! I cannot fix
My weak resolves; and midst my deep resentment
A remnant of paternal kindness
Here lingers in my breast and pleads his cause.
And Siroes is the traitor.—Justice now
Should sentence guilt; but O! I cannot fix
My weak resolves; and midst my deep resentment
A remnant of paternal kindness
Here lingers in my breast and pleads his cause.
With anger and with love oppress'd,
Those tyrants of the human breast,
What foes my peace assail!
While jealousy would guard the throne,
While pity would preserve the son,
All hopes from counsel fail.
This way and that my soul to bend,
The father and the king contend,
While neither can prevail.
Those tyrants of the human breast,
What foes my peace assail!
While jealousy would guard the throne,
While pity would preserve the son,
All hopes from counsel fail.
This way and that my soul to bend,
The father and the king contend,
While neither can prevail.
[Exit.
Siroes | ||