That husband-son!—I will my fault review;
What did he not that men or monsters do?
His day of love, a brief autumnal day,
Ev’n in its dawning hasten’d to decay; 930
Doom’d from our odious union to behold
How cold he grew, and then how worse than cold;
Eager he sought me, eagerly to shun,
Kneeling he woo’d me, but he scorn’d me won;
The tears he caused served only to provoke
His wicked insult o’er the heart he broke;