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Eliza Acton (Элиза Актон)


I would not, in the wildness of revenge,
Give poison to mine enemy, nor strike
My dagger to his heart, but I would plant
Love—burning—hopeless—and unquenchable—
Within the inmost foldings of his breast,
And bid him die the dark, and ling'ring death,
Of the pale victims, who expire beneath
The pow'r of that deep passion. Earth can show
No bitterness like this !—The shroud of thought
Which gathers round them, gloomy as the grave;—
The wasting, but unpitied pangs, which wear
The frame away, and make the tortur'd mind
Almost a chaos in its agony;—

The writhings of the spirit, doom'd to see
A rival bless'd;-and utter, cold, despair :-
These are its torments !-Are they not enough
To satisfy the most remorseless hate?

Eliza Acton's other poems:
  1. Nay! Take the Rose
  2. Песня любвиThe Lover's Song
  3. Come to My Grave
  4. Venice
  5. The Grave

Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

  • Letitia Landon (Летиция Лэндон) Revenge ("Ay, gaze upon her rose-wreathed hair")
  • Norman Gale (Норман Гейл) Revenge ("Last week, when conning Cicero")

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