To Lydia
Those lips to mine are pressed in vain,
In vain, false fair, those arms enfold me;
Thy lavished charms no more retain
The powerful spells they had to hold me.
Though red the rose that on thy lip,
With dewy odours bathed, is glowing,
I will not drink where all may sip,
Whence sweets to all alike are flowing.
The form that yields to all its sweets,
To me can ne'er be worth caressing,
And, if thy heart for numbers beats,
Oh tell me, is it worth possessing?
Then fare thee well, and let us part,
Since my short dream of Love is over;
I have but lost a thing of art,
While thou hast lost a faithful lover.
Which will the greatest loss sustain
I know not, but I feel full dearly
That thou wilt never find again
A heart to love thee so sincerely.
Once more farewell, so let us part;
For me, I ever must regret thee;
For time can never teach my heart,
Though thou art faithless, to forget thee.
Ah no! I do but boast in vain
That love is from thy bosom banished;
For while I speak I feel thy chain,
And all my doubts of thee have vanished.
Still smile, and I will think that now
On me alone those lips are smiling;
Flatter, nor will I think that thou
My simple heart art still beguiling.
Let but that rosy lip once more
Yield to my lip its fragrant treasure,
And I'll forget that from that store
Another draws large draughts of pleasure.
Oh pour on me those floods of light
That from thy radiant eye are streaming!
I will not dream that eye so bright
For any eye but mine is beaming.
And ah! if soft and painless sighs
Thy bosom move with gentle motion,
As the light summer air bids rise
In lightest waves the peaceful ocean,
My bosom then shall fondly swell,
Nor will I in thy sighs discover
That all thy softest wishes dwell
With some more highly-favoured lover.
Then say no hand but mine shall press
That hand, or touch the charms I sigh for,
That I alone shall e'er possess
The love that I would gladly die for;
And oh how happy wilt thou be,
If thou, while thus with vows deceiving,
Hast half the bliss that flows to me,
While hearing thee, and while believing.
In vain, false fair, those arms enfold me;
Thy lavished charms no more retain
The powerful spells they had to hold me.
Though red the rose that on thy lip,
With dewy odours bathed, is glowing,
I will not drink where all may sip,
Whence sweets to all alike are flowing.
The form that yields to all its sweets,
To me can ne'er be worth caressing,
And, if thy heart for numbers beats,
Oh tell me, is it worth possessing?
Then fare thee well, and let us part,
Since my short dream of Love is over;
I have but lost a thing of art,
While thou hast lost a faithful lover.
Which will the greatest loss sustain
I know not, but I feel full dearly
That thou wilt never find again
A heart to love thee so sincerely.
Once more farewell, so let us part;
For me, I ever must regret thee;
For time can never teach my heart,
Though thou art faithless, to forget thee.
Ah no! I do but boast in vain
That love is from thy bosom banished;
For while I speak I feel thy chain,
And all my doubts of thee have vanished.
Still smile, and I will think that now
On me alone those lips are smiling;
Flatter, nor will I think that thou
My simple heart art still beguiling.
Let but that rosy lip once more
Yield to my lip its fragrant treasure,
And I'll forget that from that store
Another draws large draughts of pleasure.
Oh pour on me those floods of light
That from thy radiant eye are streaming!
I will not dream that eye so bright
For any eye but mine is beaming.
And ah! if soft and painless sighs
Thy bosom move with gentle motion,
As the light summer air bids rise
In lightest waves the peaceful ocean,
My bosom then shall fondly swell,
Nor will I in thy sighs discover
That all thy softest wishes dwell
With some more highly-favoured lover.
Then say no hand but mine shall press
That hand, or touch the charms I sigh for,
That I alone shall e'er possess
The love that I would gladly die for;
And oh how happy wilt thou be,
If thou, while thus with vows deceiving,
Hast half the bliss that flows to me,
While hearing thee, and while believing.
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