Shakespeare - hate poem to pride/arrogance itself

Curse thee I need not, for thou hast e'er been

From the beginning of thy wretched days!

O brood of darkness and one soul of sin,

O cursed be thy covert and tempting ways!

See sorrow's share, to all thou hast long claimed

To the beauty thou hast dragged to thy lair!

To all the bleeding souls thy sword hast maimed,

The end of young souls so bright and so fair.

To be thy end, alas! Strength I have not,

Small wretch mortal I be! O sing we now--

Rest alone in shadows deep, thou heal naught!

May no one ever find thee, O curs'd thou!