The Mourning Bride.
3
Then why am I? O when shall I have Rest?Why do I live to say you are no more?Why are all these things thus?———Is there necessity I must be miserable?Is it of Moment to the Peace of Heav'nThat I should be afflicted thus?———if not,Why is it thus contriv'd? Why are things laidBy some unseen Hand, so, as of consequenceThey must to me bring Curses, Grief of Heart,The last Distress of Life, and sure Despair.
Leo.Alas you search too far, and think too deeply.
Alm.Why was I carried to Anselmo's Court?Or, when there, why was I us'd so tenderly?Why did he not use me like an Enemy?For so my Father would have us'd his Child.O Alphonso, Alphonso!Devouring Seas have wash'd thee from my sight,But there's no time shall rase thee from my Memory.No, I will live to be thy Monument;The cruel Ocean would deprive thee of a Tomb,But in my Heart thou art interr'd; there, there,Thy dear Resemblance is for ever fixt;My Love, my Lord, my Husband still, though lost.
Leo.Husband! O Heav'ns!
Alm.What have I said?My Grief has hurry'd me beyond all Thought.I would have kept that secret; though I knowThy Love and Faith to me, deserve all Confidence.But 'tis the Wretches Comfort still to haveSome small Reserve of near and inward Woe,Some unsuspected hoard of darling Grief,Which they unseen, may wail, and weep, and mourn,And Glutton-like alone devour.
Leo.Indeed I knew not this.
Alm.O no, thou know'st not half—thou know'st nothing————If thou didst!———If I should tell thee, wouldst thou pity me?Tell me? I know thou wouldst, thou art compassionate.
Leo.
