Hollow-Hearted, Heart-Departed - Theatre Of Tragedy

Filthy harlots — the Lord’s grape!

With lore ornamentéd entreating;

Hollow heartéd, heart-departéd —

Yet thou reapest the blooming rose —

When 'tis the weed which is to be swath’d

-- I do in the blooming flower pleasure find!

And me in the yesterday’s blind?!

-- Innocence is reserved for the meek:

-- Of naught is my grasp ne’er to be!

Hah!

— for thee even a hound holdeth the throne

Unwantéd child of mother!

— Plague of plagues!

Father of leprous children

I wield ye to stint this brawl!

Nigh is the ford — yet harken!

— do not thwart!

Desirest thou to do it withal

I shall cause thy body by one head too short!

Sayest ye nay to my boon;

Then wilt thou from bloodshed swoon!

-- Err me not!

— Must ye bethink my foolhardiness!

-- Be vanishéd!

— Be banishéd!

-

-- If ye deemest me not wroth

-- My hand hieth to unsheathe the sword

-- Lest thou tost totter —

-- Whid along!

— Wherefore irk my haughtiness?

No man… No man at all!, -- Wherefore bereave

Be it lord or beggar -- The kine of the sward?

Bereaveth my dignity!

-- Wherefore holdest thou for

-- Me such quailing scowl?

Loom my darling sun —

Bear the scarlet colour!