Dear? yes, tho' mine no more,

  Even this but makes thee dearer;

And love, since hope is o'er,

  But draws thee nearer.

Change as thou wilt to me,

The same thy charm must be;

New loves may come to weave

  Their witchery o'er thee,

Yet still, tho' false, believe

  That I adore thee, yes, still adore thee.

Think'st thou that aught but death could end

A tie not falsehood's self can rend?

No, when alone, far off I die,

  No more to see, no more cares thee,

Even then, my life's last sigh

  Shall be to bless thee, yes, still to bless thee.