You ask me B----ty, why I mourn,
Yet dry'st the tearful eye?
You ask me why I look with scorn,
And check the heaving sigh?
Time was, when I could carol forth,
To tune of lively glee;
But dark despair has left no hope--
Nor sigh--nor tear--for me.
Like me--perchance some wayward sprite,
Might dazzling lead astray;
Then leave you on the giddy height,
To perish far away:
Take heed while yet you have the choice,
Avoid the Syren's way;
Nor listen to the artful voice,
Which calls--but to betray;
For sigh from him that is deceived,
Or tear from eye that once believed,
Is sought in vain--tho' fill'd with grief,
Nor sigh nor tear can bring relief;
'Tis _time_ alone can steel the heart,
And foil the Syren's pointed dart.