Cara La Vita, E Dopo Lei MI Pare

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HONOUR TO BE PREFERRED TO LIFE.

Methinks that life in lovely woman first, / And after life true honour should be dear; / Nay, wanting honour -- of all wants the worst -- / Friend! nought remains of loved or lovely here.

And who, alas! has honour's barrier burst, / Unsex'd and dead, though fair she yet appear, / Leads a vile life, in shame and torment curst, / A lingering death, where all is dark and drear.

To me no marvel was Lucretia's end, / Save that she needed, when that last disgrace / Alone sufficed to kill, a sword to die.

Sophists in vain the contrary defend: / Their arguments are feeble all and base, / And truth alone triumphant mounts on high!

MACGREGOR.

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