Without regret I let him cross the sea,
When I was told it for his good would be,
But when I heard the nuptial knot he’d tied,
And made an Africk nymph his happy bride:
My temper then I could no longer hold,
I cursed my fate, I cursed the power of gold,
I cursed the easiness believed at first,
And (Heaven forgive me) Him I almost cursed.
Hearing my loss, to him was mighty gain;
I checked my rage, and soon grew calm again: