Whose lustre sickens at this mournful sight:
By all the pangs divided lovers feel,
Which sweet possession only knows to heal:
By all the horrors brooding o’er the deep,
Where fate, and ruin, sad dominion keep;
Though tyrant duty o’er me threatening stands,
And claims obedience to her stern commands,
Should fortune, cruel or auspicious prove,
Her smile, or frown, shall never change my love;
My heart, that now must every joy resign,