Before me shine the words of her last letter -- Lucrezia Borgia to the Pope at Rome -- Wherein she begs, as life's remaining fetter Slips from her, that his prayers will guide her home: @3The favor God has shown to me confessing, As swift my end approaches, Father, I, A Christian though a sinner, ask your blessing And kiss your feet in all humility. The thought of death brings no regret, but pleasure; And after the last sacrament great peace Will be mine own -- in overflowing measure, If but your mercy marks my soul's release.@1 And here the letter finds a sudden ending, As though the dying hand had lost its power: @3My children to Rome's love and care commending -- Ferrara -- Friday -- at the fourteenth hour.@1 An odor as of incense faintly lingers About the page of saintly sophistries -- And I am thinking clever were the fingers That could mix poison and write words like these. |