Speak cruel Love! what is't thou dost intend?
Oh! tell me, have thy Tyrannies no end?
Though to thy Pow'r I have a Rebel been,
May not Repentance expiate my Sin?
Oh! long ere this, if I had injured Heaven,
So true a Convert it would have forgiven:
Four times the Sun his Yearly Race hath run,
Since first my Heart was by my Eyes undone;
In all which time, thou scarce hast been so kind,
To give one Minute's Quiet to my mind;
Thou tak'st from me the Relish of Delights,
My Days no Pleasure know, no Sleep my Nights:
With wand'ring thoughts each Prayer thou dost profane,
(I offer to my God) and mak'st them vain.
Sometimes with Books I would divert my mind,
But nothing there but
Sometimes to ease my Grief, my Pen I take,
But it no Letters but
I seek Diversion in Company,
But my discourse great Love, is all of Thee;
In Sighs and Sobs, I Languish out the Night
And all the day, in Tears I drown my Sight:
Yet I no pity can from thee obtain,
Thou'lt neither Cure, nor mitigate my Pain:
Merciless Tyrant! Since thou wilt not Save,
Quickly Destroy, and send me to my Grave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem