Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
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Revenge.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
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Revenge.
Revenge
is sweeter much than Life!—'tis true,
So the unthinking say, and the mad Crew
Of hect'ring Blades, who for slight Cause, or none,
At ev'ry turn, are into Passion blown.
Not so meek Thales, or Chrysippus taught,
Or Socrates, who took the Poyson-Draught
With a forgiving Soul, nor wish'd to see
His base Accuser drink as deep as he.
So the unthinking say, and the mad Crew
Of hect'ring Blades, who for slight Cause, or none,
At ev'ry turn, are into Passion blown.
Not so meek Thales, or Chrysippus taught,
Or Socrates, who took the Poyson-Draught
With a forgiving Soul, nor wish'd to see
His base Accuser drink as deep as he.
Much Satisfaction in Revenge to find,
Denotes a little, mean, ungen'rous Mind:
This, Observation will most plainly shew,
For none so eagerly Revenge pursue,
Or love it half so well as Women do.—
In such tumultuous Haste her Passions sprung,
Denotes a little, mean, ungen'rous Mind:
This, Observation will most plainly shew,
For none so eagerly Revenge pursue,
Or love it half so well as Women do.—
They choak'd her Voice, and quite disarm'd her Tongue.
No room for female Tears: the Furies rise,
And ev'ry Thought of Right or Wrong despise:
Reason's calm Dictates no Admittance find,
Revenge alone commands her raging Mind.—
Tears, unavailing, but defer our Time,
The stabbing Sword must expiate the Crime:
Or worse, if Wit on bloody Vengeance bent,
A Weapon more tormenting can invent.
O Sister! I 'ave prepar'd my stubborn Heart,
To act some hellish and unheard-of Part:
Some great, some mighty Mischief I've design'd,
But yet the Draught's unfinisht in my Mind.—
She stands attentive to his Perjuries,
And darts avenging Horror from her Eyes.
Raging Resentment fires her boiling Blood:
She springs upon him 'midst the Captive Crowd,
(Her Thirst of Vengeance want of Strength supplies,)
She thrusts her forky Fingers in his Eyes:
Tares out the rooted Balls: her Rage pursues,
And in the hollow Orbs her Hands imbrews.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |