Ah, Stratonice! for our boasted power
As sovereigns o'er man's heart! Poor regents of an hour!
Faint, helpless, moonbeam--light was all I gave,
The sun breaks forth--his queen becomes his slave!
Wooed? Yes; as other queens I held my court
Won--but to lose my crown, and be the sport
Of proud, absorbing and imperious man!

STRAT.
Ah, man does what he wills--we, what we can;
He loves thee, lady!

PAUL.
Love should mate with trusts;
He leaves me!

STRAT.
Lady, 'tis because he must!
He loves thee with a love will never die,
Then, if he leave thee, reason not the why:
Give him thy trust! Oh, thou shalt have reward,
For thee he hides the secret! Let him guard
Thy life beloved--in fullest liberty.
The wife who wholly trusts alone is free!
One heart for thee and him--one purpose sure,
Yet this heart beats to dare--and to endure.
The wife's true heart must o'er the peril sigh
Which meets his heart moved but to purpose high;
Thy pain his pain, but not his terror thine:
He is Armenian, thou of Roman line.