And wilt thou never smile again,
Thy cruel purpose never shaken?
Hast thou no feeling for my pain,
Refused, disdain’d, despised, forsaken?
Thy uncle crafty, careful, cold,
His wealth upon my mind imprinted;
His fields described, and praised his fold,
And jested, boasted, promised, hinted.
Thy aunt—I scorn’d the omen—spoke
Of lovers by thy scorn rejected; 10