AH, foolish heart, through all whose pulses rushes This tumult of emotions, wild and deep, Ah, what hast thou to do with sighs and blushes, Love's fatal hopes and fears, that fain would sleep! Were it not better, through life's sullen journey, Safe from deluding snares to walk unmoved, And mingling, manful, in the knightly tourney, Ask never for thy guerdon,—to be loved! Toss, if thou wilt, upon the battling ocean,— 'Mid the rude cannonade look calmly on,— Nor fear their power, to stir in wild commotion One half the thoughts this traitor Love has done. Yet who can steel his heart? oh sweet deceiver! That cheats the surest him who guards it most, Lulls into dreams secure the fond believer, Nor wakes the spirit's doubt, till all is lost. Yet, yet, false heart, farewell, farewell forever! It were but death thus, thus to live and ache, And though the struggle every life-string sever, I trample on my heart, and bid it break. |