But remember he my lips had kissed, pure as those ear-rings pale--
When he comes back, and hears that I have dropped them in the well,
Oh, what will Muça think of me, I cannot, cannot tell.
"My ear-rings! my ear-rings! he'll say they should have been,
Not of pearl and of silver, but of gold and glittering sheen,
Of jasper and of onyx, and of diamond shining clear,
Changing to the changing light, with radiance insincere--
That changeful mind unchanging gems are not befitting well--
Thus will he think--and what to say, alas! I cannot tell.
"He'll think when I to market went, I loitered by the way;