“I see thee grieved; but, Lady, what thy grief?
It may be pungent, but it must be brief. 140
Pious thou art; but what will profit thee,
Match’d with a demon, woman’s piety?
Not for thy sake my wrongs and wrath I tell,
Revenge I seek! but yet, I wish thee well.
And now I leave thee! Thou art warn’d by one,
The rock on which her peace was wreck’d to shun.”
The Lover heard; but not in time to stay
A woman’s vengeance in its headlong way.