THE FAREWEEL. Air--“Lord Gregory.” __ ACCUSE me not, inconstant fair, Of being false to thee, For I was true, would still
been so, Had’st thou been true to me; But when I knew thy plighted
lips, Once, to a rival’s prest, Love-smother’d independence
’rose, And spurn’d thee from my breast. The fairest flow’r in nature’s
field, Conceals the rankling thorn, So thou, sweet flow’r! as false as fair, This once-kind heart hath torn; ’Twas mine to prove the fellest
pangs, That slighted love can feel: ’Tis thine to weep that one
rash act, Which bids this long fareweel. |