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Poem	Farewell, ungrateful traitor! Farewell, my perjur'd swain! Let never injur'd woman Believe a man again. The pleasure of possessing Surpasses all expressing, But 'tis too short a blessing, And love too long a pain. 'Tis easy to deceive us In pity of your pain, But when we love, you leave us To rail at you in vain. Before we have descried it, There is no joy beside it, But she that once has tried it Will never love again. The passion you pretended Was only to obtain, But once the charm is ended, The charmer you disdain. Your love by ours we measure Till we have lost our treasure, But dying is a pleasure When living is a pain.
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