 | Valentine Verses |  |
129
THE RACK.
Torment me not! O pray relent!
Cease, cease the pang,—I will confess;—
Cease to inflict, to rack, torment,
And I'll confess, O yes, O yes!
Cease, cease the pang,—I will confess;—
Cease to inflict, to rack, torment,
And I'll confess, O yes, O yes!
My heavy heart is torn within,
Distracted with my cruel sin;
I own I loved, but not thyself,
I loved thine affluence, thy pelf,
But ah not thee; another had
My best affections. O I'm mad!
Distracted with my cruel sin;
I own I loved, but not thyself,
I loved thine affluence, thy pelf,
But ah not thee; another had
My best affections. O I'm mad!
Torment me not!—Such pangs oppress,
They break my heart; they cut my soul.
Torment me not, and I'll confess
The perfect truth—the whole, the whole.
They break my heart; they cut my soul.
Torment me not, and I'll confess
The perfect truth—the whole, the whole.
130
O pity, Lady, pity not,
The wretch in such a wretched lot;
For fault, for crime, he suffers now,
For making false a lover's vow;
He said he lov'd in day of youth,
And knew he spake not love in truth.
Thou wretched man, on looking back,
Who findst thy life a living rack.
The wretch in such a wretched lot;
For fault, for crime, he suffers now,
For making false a lover's vow;
He said he lov'd in day of youth,
And knew he spake not love in truth.
Thou wretched man, on looking back,
Who findst thy life a living rack.
Such be the fate of every one,
Who loves for aught but love alone,
And finds it out in after life,
He loves a woman, not his wife.
The rack of conscience makes us all,
For Love and pity, Lady, call.
Who loves for aught but love alone,
And finds it out in after life,
He loves a woman, not his wife.
The rack of conscience makes us all,
For Love and pity, Lady, call.
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