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It must be so; each passing circumstance; Her hasty journey here; her keen distress Whene'er my soul's abhorrence I express'd; Ay, and that damned reconciliation, With tears extorted from me: Oh, too well! All, all too well bespeak the shameful tale. I should have thought of heav'n and hell conjoin'd, The morning star mix'd with infernal fire, Ere I had thought of this— Hell's blackest magick, in the midnight hour, With horrid spells and incantation dire, Such combination opposite, unseemly, Of fair and loathsome, excellent and base, Did ne'er produce.—But every thing is possible, So as it may my misery enhance! Oh! I did love her with such pride of soul! When other men, in gayest pursuit of love, Each beauty follow'd, by her side I stay'd; Far prouder of a brother's station there, Than all the favours favour'd lovers boast. We quarrel'd once, and when I could no more The alter'd coldness of her eye endure, I slipp'd o' tip-toe to her chamber door; And when she ask'd who gently knock'd—Oh! oh! Who could have thought of this? Hell's direst torment seize th' infernal villain! Detested of my soul! I will have vengeance!