Poems (Lambert)/Revenge
For works with similar titles, see Revenge.
REVENGE.
AH! I could curse them in my woe,E'en as the viper stings,And to the heel that strikes it clings,So I could plant my blow.
Yes, I could pray that fell diseaseShould torture them with pain—That plague should fall in every rain,Miasma taint each breeze.
That wealth should vanish, and the curseOf poverty should reign;That cries for bread should be in vain!An always empty purse.
That friends should die, and every prideShould vanish in a day;'Till even hope withdraws her ray,And naught of joys abide.
Yes, I could whisper in the earOf one who loves to tellSome fabrication, dark as hell,As scandal loves to hear.
Revenge is sweet; I could inventFull many a thousand Way,That would my heartfelt wrongs repay,Could they my soul content.
But could I go to sleep in peace,And could I dream of heaven—Could I e'er hope to be forgivenWhen death came to release?
Revenge is sweet to those who live;But when we think of death—The ebbing of this life-tide breath—'Tis sweeter to forgive.