TESTO DEL LIED"Who but a slave can well express"
Who but a slave can well express
Of liberty the happiness;
The wretched captive who is nobly born,
Whose tender hands with rugged oars are worn
Not half the miseries can prove,
As I, unhappy I, have felt in love.
Ah! powerful Love! what cursed arts
Hast thou to torture human hearts;
All the most strange and uncouth ways to die
Found out to please a tyrant's cruelty.
Fire, poison, racks, gammots and wheels
But faintly copy what a lover feels.
But being freed, methinks I stand
Naked and shiv'ring on the strand,
Cursing the treach'rous waves and winds but scorn
Myself for leaving of my native shore.
Thus my past follies make me wise
And strongly guard me from a new surprise.