subject. I am at a loss to conjecture from what source，
O stranger, but these maids--my own--
Sprang from the wife and mother's travail-pain.
What, then thy offspring are at once--
Their father's very sister's too.
Horrors from the boundless deep
Back on my soul in refluent surges sweep.
I served the State; would I had never won
That graceless grace by which I was undone.
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