How can her drooping heart bear this sad shock?
Can her meek soul my father’s rage encounter?
No, no! impossible! thus am I wretched.
Then O! you righteous and all-powerful Judge,
If human breath, with pure soul offer’d up,
Can touch you, or obtain your gentle hearing,
Behold a maiden for a mother sues,
And on her bended knees implores protection.
Let some kind angel, minister of mercy,
Pour on her wounded soul the balm of comfort;