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.