Well, I will never more complain,
Or call the Fates unkind;
Alas! how fond it is, how vain!
But self-conceitedness does reign
I nevery mortal mind.
'Tis true, they long did me deny,
Nor would permit a sight;
I raged, for I could not espy,
Or think that any harm could lie
Disguised in that delight.
At last, my wishes to fulfil,
They did their power resign,
I saw her, but I wish I still
Had been obedient to their will,
And they not unto mine.
Yet I by this have learn'd the wit
Never to grieve or fret;
Contentedly I will submit,
And think that best which they think fit,
Without the least regret.
