The Indian Queen: They tell us that you mighty powers above
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.