And would not heavenly Mary save her maid?
Deprived of sense—betray’d by place and time—
Then was she doom’d to share the unconscious crime?
Debased, deflower’d, and stamp’d a wretch for life,
A monster’s mother, and a demon’s wife?
Oh! at that thought her soul what passions tear!
How then she beats her breast, how rends her hair,
And bids, with golden ringlets scatter’d round,
Stream all the air, and glitter all the ground!
Sighs, sobs, and shrieks the place of words supply;