Poems (Hoffman)/Revenge
For works with similar titles, see Revenge.
REVENGE.
Not in the expanse of earth or heaven's abyss,
Can he find peace whose soul hath once known bliss;
But now is scorched and withered by the heat
Of that consuming cup mad fools call sweet
Revenge, whose galling, lurid, fiery taste
Has turned brief days to years of wear and waste.
Wronged by thy best beloved, despised, betrayed,
By him thou trusted, for whom thou hast prayed;
Make each base Judas suffer all the pangs
That soul hast suffered from his serpent fangs.
In righteous anger burns thy tortured soul,
But wait, each fiery impulse hold, control.
Though just the every farthing they shall pay.
Believe me, thou wilt suffer more than they,
More in the loss of life's sublimest part;
The God-like nobleness of mind and heart,
Sometime unto the wronged there cometh rest,
But never peace to the avenging breast;
Upon the actors in life's Judas play
A patient Christ looks down while angels pray.
Can he find peace whose soul hath once known bliss;
But now is scorched and withered by the heat
Of that consuming cup mad fools call sweet
Revenge, whose galling, lurid, fiery taste
Has turned brief days to years of wear and waste.
Wronged by thy best beloved, despised, betrayed,
By him thou trusted, for whom thou hast prayed;
Make each base Judas suffer all the pangs
That soul hast suffered from his serpent fangs.
In righteous anger burns thy tortured soul,
But wait, each fiery impulse hold, control.
Though just the every farthing they shall pay.
Believe me, thou wilt suffer more than they,
More in the loss of life's sublimest part;
The God-like nobleness of mind and heart,
Sometime unto the wronged there cometh rest,
But never peace to the avenging breast;
Upon the actors in life's Judas play
A patient Christ looks down while angels pray.