Classic Poem

O Hector, thou wert rooted in my Heart,
No Brother there had half so large a Part!
Scarce my own Lord, to whom such Love I bore,
That I forsook my Home; scarce he had more!
O would I ne're had seen that fatal day,
Would I had perish'd, when I came away.
Now, twenty Years are past, since that sad hour,
When first I landed on this ruin'd Shoar.
For Ruin (sure) and I, together came!
Yet all this time, from thee I ne're had blame,
Not one ungentle word, or look of Scorn,
Which I too often have from others born.
When you from their Reproach have set me free,
And kindly have reprov'd their Cruelty;
If by my Sisters, and the Queen revil'd
(For the good King, like you, was ever mild)
Your kindness still has all my grief beguil'd.
Even in tears let me your loss bemoan,
Who had no Friend alive, but you a one:
All will reproach me now, where ere I pass,
And fly with Horrour from my hated Face.
This said; she wept, and the vast Throng was mov'd,
And with a general Sigh her Grief approv'd.