Oft bade thy lips repeat once more
The words I deemed sincere!
But—though the truth this heart may break—
I know thee false “and no mistake!”
My fancy pictured to my heart
Thy boasted passion, pure;
Dreamed thy affection, void of art,
For ever would endure.
Alas! in vain my woe I smother!
I find thee very much “more t’other!”