The feast in time of Plague

( a song from The City of the Plague
by John Wilson, Act 1, Scene 4
1816 )

(  ‘The Feast’ by Cuckoo )

Two navies meet upon the waves.
That round them yawn like op’ning graves;
The battle rages, seaman fall
And overboard go one and all.
The wounded with the dead are gone;
But Ocean drowns each frantic groan,
And at each plunge into the flood,
Grimly the billow laughs with blood…
What matters body without breath?
No groan disturbs that hold of death.

Then leaning on this snow-white breast,
I sing the praises of the Pest!
If me thou  would’st this night destroy,
Come, smite me in the arms of Joy.

Two armies meet upon the hill;
They part, and all again is still.
No! Thrice ten thousand men are lying,
Of cold, and thirst, and hunger dying…

Then leaning on this snow-white breast,
I sing the praises of the Pest!
If me thou  would’st this night destroy,
Come, smite me in the arms of Joy…

( a song from “The City of the Plague” )

( “The feast in time of Plague”
Photo from the site of the Russian theatre “U Nikitskih Vorot” )

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