From my native land, my birth-place,
Where on many a proud escutcheon
My ancestral fame is written,
That he brought me here, the weight
Of his great crown to bear with him,
And that Rome upon my entry
Gave to me a recognition
That repaid the debt it owed me,
Since the victories were admitted
Which in glorious alternation
By my sword and pen were given her?
Through what vanity, what folly,
Wilt thou not enjoy thy birth-right
As my son and heir, indulging
Solely in these idle whimseys?--

CHRYSANTHUS.
Sir, the state in which you see me,
This secluded room, this stillness,
Do not spring from want of feeling,
Or indifference to your wishes.
'T is my natural disposition;
For I have no taste to mingle
In the vulgar vain pursuits
Of the courtier crowds ambitious.
And if living to myself here
More of true enjoyment gives me,
Why would you desire me seek for
That which must my joys diminish?
Let this time of sadness pass,