(To the air of, “Hear me swear how much I love.”)
By that smile which made me blest,
And left me soon the wretch you see—
By that heart I once possest,
Which now, they say, is given to thee—
By St. Clara’s wrongs and woes—
Trust not young Glenarvon’s vows.
By those lays which breathe around
A poet’s great and matchless art—
By that voice whose silver sound