In feeble murmurs spoke,
His specious art my bosom wrung,
I shudder'd at his look.
And thus, bewildered with my woes,
I faint and careless rove;
For oh! I cannot dwell with those
I must no longer love."
"Fair lady, calm that anxious heart,
And to my voice attend!
Thy father died by Hubert's dart,