In frenzied wrath, would wound the peerless dame
As me they wound, who am her slave; and yet
No noose nor fire hath power against a heart
That is of marble made, nor net nor dart.
But lo, 'tis I who burn within the blaze,
I waste away: before the net unseen
I tremble not: my neck I humbly place
Within the noose; and of his arrow keen
I have no fear: thus to this last disgrace
Have I been brought—so great my fall has been