had you never loved,
Your Hate I could have borne
Contentedly, I would have proved
The Object of your Scorn.
But you were once as soft, as kind,
As yielding Virgins be;
Gods! that That Face should have a Mind
Stained with Inconstancy.
No Tongue can tell the Mighty Joy
Your Kindness did Create;
But the Sweet Rapture you destroy,
With sudden causeless Hate.
So have I seen a Rising Sun
Promise a Glorious Day,
But soon o'ercast, its Brightness gone,
Did to rough Storms give way.