Song of Jealousie, from Love Triumphant

WHAT State of Life can be so blest

As Love, that warms a Lover’s Breast?

Two Souls in one, the same desire

To grant the Bliss, and to require!

But if in Heav’n a Hell we find,

’Tis all from thee,

O Jealousie!

Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousie,

Thou Tyrant of the Mind!

All other ills, tho sharp they prove,

Serve to refine, and perfect Love:

In absence, or unkind disdain,

Sweet Hope relieves the Lover’s pain:

But ah, no Cure but Death we find

To set us free

From Jealousie:

O Jealousie!

Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousie,

Thou Tyrant of the Mind.

False in thy Glass all Objects are,

Some set too near, and some too far:

Thou art the Fire of endless Night

The Fire that burns, and gives no Light.

All Torments of the Damn’d we find

In only thee

O Jealousie!

Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousie

Thou Tyrant of the Mind!