 | Art and Fashion |  |
291
THE FALSE ONE.
And it could please a vacant hour
To woo him, win him, to thy side;
Play with his heart as with a flower,
Then change, and all his hopes deride:
And it was triumph to impart
Such woe as language ne'er exprest;
Oh shame upon the cruel art
Which thus could wound one human breast!
To woo him, win him, to thy side;
Play with his heart as with a flower,
Then change, and all his hopes deride:
And it was triumph to impart
Such woe as language ne'er exprest;
Oh shame upon the cruel art
Which thus could wound one human breast!
Though thou wert beauteous as the ray
That beam'd on Eden's bower of yore;
Though thou wert . . . oh, away, away!
May heart of man ne'er love thee more!
Would that the angel-hand of Truth
Might straight unveil thy syren brow;
Disrobe thee of thy bloom of youth,
And show thee false, as thou art now!
That beam'd on Eden's bower of yore;
Though thou wert . . . oh, away, away!
May heart of man ne'er love thee more!
Would that the angel-hand of Truth
Might straight unveil thy syren brow;
Disrobe thee of thy bloom of youth,
And show thee false, as thou art now!
292
We had been brothers in those years
Ere life as yet had known a shade;
And I could weep unmanly tears
To see the wreck thy arts have made.
But go!—assume thy gayest dress—
Sport lightly with the pleasures nigh;
Why shouldst thou wear one smile the less
Because a breaking heart must die!
Ere life as yet had known a shade;
And I could weep unmanly tears
To see the wreck thy arts have made.
But go!—assume thy gayest dress—
Sport lightly with the pleasures nigh;
Why shouldst thou wear one smile the less
Because a breaking heart must die!
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