And yet her hand no merit could obtain;
For, though secluded, there were trials made,
When he who soften’d most could not persuade;
Awhile she hearken’d as her swain proposed,
And then his suit with strong refusal closed.
“Thanks, and farewell!—give credit to my word, 110
That I shall die the widow of my lord;
’Tis my own will, I now prefer the state—
If mine should change, it is the will of fate.”
Such things were spoken, and the hearers cried,