No more I’ll to my bosom fold it;
The ring you gave, your faith to prove,
I can’t return—because I’ve sold it!
I will not ask thee to restore
Each gage d’armour, or lover’s token,
Which I had given thee before
The links between us had been broken.
They were not much, but oh! that brooch,
If for my sake thou’st deign’d to save it,
For that, at least, I must encroach,—