Fly swift, ye hours, fly swift, thou lazy sun; Make haste and drive the tedious minutes on. Bring back my Belvidera to my sight, My Belvidera, than thyself more bright.
Swifter than Time my eager wishes move, And scorn the beaten paths of vulgar love. Soft peace is banish'd from my tortur'd breast, Love robs my days of ease, my nights of rest.
Yet tho' her cruel scorn provokes despair, My passion still is strong as she is fair. Still must I love, still bless the pleasing pain, Still court my ruin and embrace my chain.