Thomas Moore, from Irish Melodies, vol. 6
When first I met thee, warm and young,|
There shone such truth about thee,
And on thy lip such promise hung,
I did not dare to doubt thee.
I saw thee change, yet still relied,
Still clung with hope the fonder,
And thought, though false to all beside,
From me thou couldst not wander.
But go, deceiver! go,
The heart, whose hopes could make it
Trust one so false, so low,
Deserves that thou shouldst break it.
2. When every tongue thy follies named,
3. Even now, though youth its bloom has shed,|
No lights of age adorn thee;
The few who loved thee once have fled,
And they who flatter scorn thee.
Thy midnight cup is pledged to slaves,
No genial ties enwreath it;
The smiling there, like light on graves,
Has rank cold hearts beneath it.
Go - go - though worlds were thine,
I would not now surrender
One taintless tear of mine
For all thy guilty splendour!
4. And days may come, thou false one! yet,
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