Page:The complete poems of Emily Bronte.djvu/382

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326
POEMS OF EMILY BRONTË

That wrath will never spare,
Will never pity know;
Will mock its victims maddened prayer,
Will triumph in his woe.


Shut from his Maker's smile
The accursed man shall be;
For mercy reigns a little while,
But hate eternally.[1]


  1. An alternative in the author's manuscript runs:—

    'Compassion smiles a little while,
    Revenge eternally.'