WHEN thou, poor Excommunicate   From all the joys of Love, shalt see The full reward and glorious fate   Which my strong faith shall purchase me,   Then curse thine own inconstancy!

A fairer hand than thine shall cure   That heart which thy false oaths did wound; And to my soul a soul more pure   Than thine shall by Love's hand be bound,   And both with equal glory crown'd.

Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain   To Love, as I did once to thee; When all thy tears shall be as vain   As mine were then: for thou shalt be   Damn'd for thy false apostasy.