Her glorious charms. Her queenly robes, 'tis true,
Have yielded to the garb of poverty;
Still, through her very grief her beauty shines,
And nothing save her kingdom has she lost
By this hard stroke of fate. This fear of her395
Doth vex my heart and take away my sleep.
I once was in the eyes of all the world
The wife most to be praised; and every bride
Longed for a mate like mine with envious prayers;
And every soul that asked the gods for aught,