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.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem