19
The Literary Gazette, 18th August 1827, page 539
BROKEN VOWS.
And this is all I have left now,
Silence and solitude and tears;
The memory of a broken vow,
My blighted hopes, my wasted years.
There hangs your lute; the wandering wind
Will hence its only master be;
But never may its numbers find
More wandering master than in thee.
My falcon it has slipped its hand—
Afar your faithless gift has flown;
The bird which fed from my own hand,
Alas, its stay is like your own!
You swore to me yon starry ranks
Should sooner leave their homes above;
Yon river change its native banks,
Than you forget your early love.
Each starry world its station keeps
In night's blue empire as before;
The same our native river sweeps—
In vain—for I am loved no more.
I will go weep, till rose and blue
Alike from cheek and eye depart,
A faded flower,—and then adieu.
My own false hopes and thy false heart.
L. E. L.
