La tempestad

René Magritte, The Tempest, 1931.

"Now my charms are all a’erthrown,
And what strength I have’s mine own;
Which is most faint: now, ‘tis true,
Y must be here confin’d by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I Have my dukedom got
And pardon’d the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell;
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands.
Gentle breath of yours my sail
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair,
Unless Y be reliv’d by prayer,
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon’d be,
Let your indulgence set me free".

William Shakespeare, The Tempest, 1611.