In every hour an age’s bliss we reaped,
And lavish favours on each other heaped.
Now sure (thought I) destiny doth relent,
And her insatiate tyranny repent:
But how mistaken! how deceived was I!
Alas! she only raised my hopes thus high,
To cast me down with greater violence;
For midst our joys, she snatched my shepherd hence
To Africa: yet though I was neglected,
I bore it better than could be expected: