If any unforgiven wrong to man
Yet rests, how shall I lift my hands to him
Who has made all men, and who cares for all,
As children of one grand and wond'rous house,
Wherein the mightiest monarch of the earth
Holds but a little nook?
I have been one, plac'd on a giddy height
Of seeming greatness, therefore liable,
In nature's poor infirmity, to acts
Of blind and foolish pride. I have been one
In much real feebleness, upheld, defended,
By voluntary aid and gen'rous zeal
Of valiant strangers owing me no service,
And therefore liable, in the mind's weakness,
Its saddest weakness, to ungrateful thoughts
Tinctur'd with jealousy. If towards you,
My noble friends, I have contracted guilt,
I trust—I know—I beg—what shall I say?
Your gen'rous hearts to all your deeds of love
Will add a last forgiveness.
OTHUS.
And to all men thou'st ever worthy been,
Noble and gracious; pardon at our hands
Thou needest none.
OMNES.
As we to thee have faithful followers been,
Thou'st ever been to us a gen'rous lord.
