Revenge
Letitia Elizabeth Landon
1802 to 1838
Track 1
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Mark you that scornful cheek,—
'Tis well: the rack, the chain, the wheel,
That I have shed for thee,—
It will not turn on thee.
And wake for her the gifted line,
And only weep your doom:
Far better hadst thou proved;
Seem as you drank the very air
Her breath perfumed the while:
And swear your heart is as a shrine,
That wild and witching lay,
By the nights pass'd in sleepless care,
Ay, gaze upon her rose-wreathed hair,
The days of endless woe;
All that you taught my heart to bear,
The racking doubts, the burning fears,—
Spoke more than words could speak.
The eye averted as you pass'd,
Thine own it will not be;
Go thou and watch her lightest sigh,—
I would not wish to see you laid
And bask beneath her sunny eye,—
Oh my wrung heart, be thou content,
'Tis well: I am revenged at last,—
Ay, now by all the bitter tears
But this is fitting punishment,
To live and love in vain,—
Within an early tomb;
That only owns her sway.
Ev'n I could almost pity feel,
I should forget how you betray'd,
And feed upon his pain.
Avenged they well may be—
For thou art not beloved.
And gaze upon her smile;
All that yourself will know.