 | Artaxerxes |  |
SCENE VIII.
Semiraalone.
What has my rashness done? I vainly hop'd
That grief divided would decrease the burden;
But ah! it weighs the more; while now I thought
To ease myself by insults on Mandane,
I pierc'd her heart, without relieving mine.
That grief divided would decrease the burden;
But ah! it weighs the more; while now I thought
To ease myself by insults on Mandane,
I pierc'd her heart, without relieving mine.
'Tis false to think content we find,
Whene'er with us in sorrow join'd,
Another's tears o'erflow:
To see a friend oppress'd with grief,
Affords the afflicted no relief,
But swells the sighs of woe.
Whene'er with us in sorrow join'd,
Another's tears o'erflow:
To see a friend oppress'd with grief,
Affords the afflicted no relief,
But swells the sighs of woe.
[Exit.
| Artaxerxes | |