By giving forth myself about to bear
The child whose birth my sister should conceal.
’Twas done—the day came on—I feign’d the pain
She felt, and on my bosom as my own
Cherish’d the crying infant she had borne,
And died in bearing—for even so it was;
I and another matron (who alone
Was partner in the plot)
Assigning other illness for her death.
This is my story, sir—this is the crime,