Nicholas Rowe

Thou hast prevariated with thy friend,
By underhand contrivances undone me:
And while my open nature trusted read more

Thou hast prevariated with thy friend,
By underhand contrivances undone me:
And while my open nature trusted in thee,
Thou hast stept in between me and my hopes,
And ravish'd from me all my soul held dear.
Thou hast betray'd me.

Guilt is the source of sorrow, 'tis the fiend,Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behindWith whips and stings.

Guilt is the source of sorrow, 'tis the fiend,Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behindWith whips and stings.

As if Misfortune made the Throne her Seat,
And none could be unhappy but the Great.

As if Misfortune made the Throne her Seat,
And none could be unhappy but the Great.

Guilt is the source of sorrows, the avenging fiend that follows us behind
with whips and stings.

Guilt is the source of sorrows, the avenging fiend that follows us behind
with whips and stings.

Think not the good,
The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done,
Shall die forgotten all; the read more

Think not the good,
The gentle deeds of mercy thou hast done,
Shall die forgotten all; the poor, the prisoner,
The fatherless, the friendless, and the widow,
Who daily owe the bounty of thy hand,
Shall cry to Heaven, and pull a blessing on thee.