Go, then—'tis vain to hover

  Thus round a hope that's dead;

At length my dream is over;

  'Twas sweet—'twas false—'tis fled!

Farewell! since naught it moves thee,

  Such truth as mine to see—

Some one, who far less loves thee,

  Perhaps more blest will be.

Farewell, sweet eyes, whose brightness

  New life around me shed;

Farewell, false heart, whose lightness

  Now leaves me death instead.

Go, now, those charms surrender

  To some new lover's sigh—

One who, tho' far less tender,

  May be more blest than I.