Enochian Calling

Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow
And do not drop in for an after-loss:
Ah! do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow
Come in the rearward of a conquered woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow
To linger out a purposed overthrow
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last
When other petty griefs have done their spite
But in the onset come: so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortune's might;
And other strains of woe, which now seem woe
Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so