They tell us that your mighty powers above
Make perfect your joys and your blessings by Love.
Ah! Why do you suffer the blessing that's there
To give a poor lover such sad torments here?
Yet though for my passion such grief I endure,
My love shall like yours still be constant and pure.
To suffer for him gives an ease to my pains
There's joy in my grief and there's freedom in chains;
If I were divine he could love me no more
And I in return my adorer adore
O let his dear life the, kind Gods, be your care
For I in your blessings have no other share.Еще Henry Purcell — The Indian Queen