VIII.
If I live on, dear Lady, in the void
Caused by your absences, I seem to' offend
Him who adores you, and to discommend
The bliss that in your presence I enjoyed.
Soon by another thought am I annoyed—
If I of life despair, I forfeit too
The good I hope for in beholding you;
By ills so varying is my peace destroyed.
My feelings in this variance all take part
So fiercely, that I know not what decreed
Me to such grievances—I never look
On their dissensions without swift rebuke,
But night and day they war with nicest art.
And in my ruin are alone agreed.