Themistocles | ||
131
SCENE XVII.
Roxana, alone.
And canst thou, O! Roxana, then resolve
To crush the man whom late thy soul ador'd?
Yes, let him fall—the ingrate contemns my love,
And he shall pay the forfeit to my wrongs:
O! I could see him to a thousand foes
Expos'd, and see him with a tearless eye;
Would at his latest hour—O! Heaven, I boast
Of anger, while my trembling heart belies me.
To crush the man whom late thy soul ador'd?
Yes, let him fall—the ingrate contemns my love,
And he shall pay the forfeit to my wrongs:
O! I could see him to a thousand foes
Expos'd, and see him with a tearless eye;
Would at his latest hour—O! Heaven, I boast
Of anger, while my trembling heart belies me.
The bosom now with anger burns
To punish an ingrate:
But soon to love our anger turns,
And softens at his fate.
To punish an ingrate:
But soon to love our anger turns,
And softens at his fate.
We seek revenge on him who pain'd
The fond believing breast;
But when we find it near attain'd,
The vengeance we detest.
The fond believing breast;
But when we find it near attain'd,
The vengeance we detest.
[Exit.
Themistocles | ||