I long to talk with some old lover's ghost
Who died before the god of love was born
I cannot think that he, who then loved most
Sunk so low as to love one which did scorn
But since this god produced a destiny
And that vice-nature, custom, let it be
I must love her that loves not me
But every god of love will now extend
His vast prerogative as far above
To reach, to l***, to fight, to defend
The territory of this god of love
O! were we waken'd by this tyranny
Ungod this child again it would not be
I should love her, who loves not me
I long to talk I long to feel love
I sank so low to love her scorn
To reach, to l***, to fight to defend
To die before this god was born
Who died before the god of love was born
I cannot think that he, who then loved most
Sunk so low as to love one which did scorn
But since this god produced a destiny
And that vice-nature, custom, let it be
I must love her that loves not me
But every god of love will now extend
His vast prerogative as far above
To reach, to l***, to fight, to defend
The territory of this god of love
O! were we waken'd by this tyranny
Ungod this child again it would not be
I should love her, who loves not me
I long to talk I long to feel love
I sank so low to love her scorn
To reach, to l***, to fight to defend
To die before this god was born