Written from Goletta

My friend, ungrateful Love, who well must know With what pure constancy my faith I keep, Exerting his base pride, which is to heap Upon his dearest friend his heaviest woe,— Fearing that if I write, and publish so His deeds, his grandeur I abate, his force Not equalling his spite, has had recourse To the fierce intervention of my foe; And in the noble part with which I wield The sword, and that which gives intelligence Of our conceptions, I have wounded been; But I will take good care that the offence Shall cost the offender dear, now I am healed, Offended, free, and for repayment keen.