Classic Poem

Ah ! why these tears, — this rising sigh,
These soft impressions, yet;
Cannot such matchless perfidy
Compel me to forget?

Ye rural walks, ye verdant meads,
Ye solitary bowers;
Beneath your soft alluring shades
I've kill'd unnumber'd hours.

From you alone I seek redress,
Perfidio's vows recall;
Perhaps you'll pity my distress,
For you have heard them all.

Ah! with what tears did he invoke,
What sighs my love implore?
A thousand tender things he spoke,
And look'd a thousand more.

Long did he seek C REDULIA'S heart,
'Ere she that heart could give;
Till Cupid shot that satal dart,
Which bad P ERFIDIO live.

Now words were wanting to express
The transports of his soul;
He hop'd no more, — must die with less,
Her will should his controul.

Still more as with her converse blest,
The gentle flame increas'd;
'Twas Paradise within his breast,
When her his arms embrac'd.

And should she ever prove unkind,
Or with another wed;
He'd never change his stedfast mind,
But join the peaceful dead.

I heard, nor did the fraud detect,
The treach'rous swain believ'd,
Nor once did my weak heart suspect,
I e'er should be deceiv'd.

But such I was: — Yet still the tear
Unwilling fills my eye,
And still I find his image here,
And still I heave a sigh.

But rise, my soul, with just disdain,
Discard the guilty youth,
Nor let him give thy bosom pain,
Who flies the path of truth.