Plunge ev’ry bark t’avenge a lover’s woe;
Th’ingrate whose crimes no more deserve the light,
Death, and the furious pangs of love requite!
Or ah! at least the fatal fleet detain,
From the curs’d region of my rival’s reign
The winds, (ye Gods, I fruitlessly implore!)
Already land thee on that hateful shore;
The haughty fair I see, with smiles approve
The pow’rful influence of her captive love;
I see thee adulate her treach’rous charms,