The tender lover for the imperious lord;
Nor felt the pains that jealous fondness brings,
Nor wept the coldness from possession sprung:
Above your sex distinguished in your fate,
You trusted—yet experienced no deceit.
Soft were your hours, and winged with pleasures flew,
No vain repentance gave a sigh to you;
And if superior bliss heaven can bestow,
With fellow angels you enjoy it now.
The Emperor Adrian’s Death-bed Verses to his Soul imitated.