Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast,To soften Rocks, or bend a knotted Oak.I've read, that things inanimate have mov'd,And, as with living Souls, have been inform'd,By Magick Numbers and persuasive Sound.What then am I? Am I more senseless grownThan Trees, or Flint? O force of constant Woe!'Tis not in Harmony to calm my Griefs.Anselmo sleeps, and is at Peace; last NightThe silent Tomb receiv'd the good Old King;He and his Sorrows now are safely lodg'dWithin its cold, but hospitable Bosom.Why am not I at Peace?
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About William Congreve
William Congreve was a 17th-century British playwright, poet and colonial administrator. William Congreve was an English playwright, satirist and poet. He played a major role in shaping English comedy, and is regarded by literary critics as one of the greatest playwrights of the Restoration period. Read more on Wikipedia →