William Michael Rossetti
'The jewels of our father, with washed eyes
Cordelia leaves you. I know you what you are
And, like a sister, am most loth to tell
Your faults, as they are named. Use well our father:
To your professed bosoms I commit him.
But yet, alas!--stood I within his grace,
I would prefer him to a better place.
So farewell to you both.'