Round Ilbert’s fateful name.
Come hither, come hither, my trusty Aide,
What turns thy cheek so pale?
What latest fair thou leav’st behind,
Believes thy oft-told tale?
If ’tis some fond delusion paints
Thy happiness at stake,
A heart that holds so many loves,
Fear not, will never break.
And she for whom thou sighest now,