Which love around your haunts hath set;
Or, circled by his fatal fire,
Your hearts shall burn, your hope expire.
Who ne’er has loved, and loved in vain,
Can neither feel nor pity pain.
The cold repulse, the look askance,
The lightning of Love’s angry glance.
My curdling blood, my maddening brain,
In silent anguish I sustain;
And still thy heart, without partaking