Rhapsodies | ||
32
LINES.
THE COMPLAINT OF NEGLECTED LOVE.
Dimm'd is the lustre of that radiant eye,
Fled are the roses of that polish'd cheek;
Mute are those lips that vent the struggling sigh,
Convulsive throbs that iv'ry bosom sleek.
Fled are the roses of that polish'd cheek;
Mute are those lips that vent the struggling sigh,
Convulsive throbs that iv'ry bosom sleek.
Dishevell'd hang those locks of auburn hue,
Which oft that neck in tresses would adorn;
Ah! do not these portend that love's untrue?
And has not William left his maid forlorn?
Which oft that neck in tresses would adorn;
Ah! do not these portend that love's untrue?
And has not William left his maid forlorn?
Yes, faithless youth! thy practise was but art;
Another's grief has sov'reign charms for thee;
Or never could thy soul first win a heart,
And then abandon it to misery.
Another's grief has sov'reign charms for thee;
Or never could thy soul first win a heart,
And then abandon it to misery.
Rhapsodies | ||