What State Of Life Can Be So Blest As Love, That Warms A Lover'S Breast? Two Souls In One, The Same Desire To Grant The Bliss, And To Require! But If In Heaven A Hell We Find, 'Tis All From Thee, O Jealousy! 'Tis All From Thee, O Jealousy! Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousy, Thou Tyrant Of The Mind! All Other Ills, Though Sharp They Prove, Serve To Refine, And Perfect Love: In Absence, Or Unkind Disdain, Sweet Hope Relieves The Lover'S Pain. But, Ah! No Cure But Death We Find, To Set Us Free From Jealousy: O Jealousy! Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousy, Thou Tyrant Of The Mind! False In Thy Glass All Objects Are, Some Set Too Near, And Some Too Far; Thou Art The Fire Of Endless Night, The Fire That Burns, And Gives No Light. All Torments Of The Damn'D We Find In Only Thee, O Jealousy! Thou Tyrant, Tyrant Jealousy, Thou Tyrant Of The Mind!