WHERE shall I refuge seek, if you refuse me? In you my hope, in you my fortune lies, In you my life! though you unjust accuse me, My service scorn, and merit underprize: O bitter grief! that exile is become Reward for faith, and pity deaf and dumb! Why should my firmness find a seat so wavering? My simple vows, my love you entertained; Without desert the same again disfav'ring; Yet I my word and passion hold unstained. O wretched me! that my chief joy should breed My only grief and kindness pity need! |