"Spite of the godhead"
di Anne Wharton (1632-1685)

Spite of the godhead, pow'rful Love,
I will my torments hide,
But what avail if life must prove
A sacrifice to pride.
Pride, thou art become my goddess now,
To thee I'll altars rear,
To thee each morning pay my vow
And offer ev'ry tear.
But oh, I fear, should Philemon
Once take thy injur'd part,
I soon should cast the idol down
And offer him my heart.