I have wronged thee, and beg pardon. Yet, I think,
Thou losest in acquittal. O Frederick, Frederick!
Although thou art a poet, and mayst think
Thou hast a touch of rarer stuff, to make thee
Self-centred;—nay, tho’thou wert more than that,
More than I ever thought thee....
To carry thine own portrait! to have a pocket
For it! well, well! ’tis a fair picture enough,
Not undeserving of its jewelled case.
Poor little image! now I’m sorry for thee;