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CONGREVE, William


The Mourning Bride
…..
Ha!

Who waits there?

As you’ll answer it, take heed

This Slave commit no Violence upon

Himself. I’ve been deceiv’d. The Publick Safety

Requires he should be more confin’d; and none,

No not the Princes self, permitted to

Confer with him. I’ll quit you to the King.

Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent

The base Injustice thou hast done my Love:

Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past Distress,

And all those Ills which thou so long hast mourn’d;

Heav’n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn’d,

Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn’d.
…..
Music has Charms to sooth a savage Breast,

To soften Rocks, or bend a knotted Oak.

I've read, that things inanimate have mov'd,

And, as with living Souls, have been inform'd,

By Magic Numbers and persuasive Sound.

What then am I? Am I more senseless grown

Than Trees, or Flint? O force of constant Woe!

'Tis not in Harmony to calm my Griefs.

Anselmo sleeps, and is at Peace; last Night

The silent Tomb receiv'd the good Old King;

He and his Sorrows now are safely lodg'd

Within its cold, but hospitable Bosom.

Why am not I at Peace?

…..
Vile and ingrate! too late thou shalt repent

The base Injustice thou hast done my Love:

Yes, thou shalt know, spite of thy past Distress,

And all those Ills which thou so long hast mourn'd;

Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd,

Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.

…..