Took care to him was borne
Nought but his picture’s counterfeit,
And Jane’s reported scorn.
“‘The treachery took: she waited wild;
My slave came back and lied
Whate’er I wished; she clasped her child,
And swooned, and all but died.
“‘I felt her tears for years and years
Quench not my flame, but stir;
The very hate I bore her mate