He Saw I Lov'd

Low in a vale, beneath a rising hill, Adown which hurries many a plaintive rill, In soft accordance to the murm'ring dove, That morn and evening tells his tale of love; Or in the grove that hangs the brow beside, Sits nestling near his faithful feather'd bride;— 'Twas there I first with faithless Edward stray'd, 'Twas there my eyes my foolish heart betray'd.

He saw I lov'd;—which if he had not seen, He had not then so great a tyrant been, Or o'er a heart, like mine, exulting shewn, That he'd no love for me about his own; Can I forget, while near the Medway's side, How oft he call'd me his intended bride, And charm'd me as we trod the banks along, With some soft tale, or heart-bewitching song?

My ear was charm'd, I listen'd and believ'd; My love grew stronger as the youth deceiv'd; Who could have thought that falshood ever hung, Mix'd with the love-like notes of Edward's tongue! Ye banks of Medway, witness to his vows, Ye willows too, that shaded us with boughs; Ye tides that swell'd, and kiss'd the meadow's brim, As if you envy'd me each kiss of him.

Come swell again, receiving while I weep My briny tears, and mix them with the deep; For Edward's vows are false as subtle sands, That many a fair and gallant vessel strands; My Edward's false! and to some other stray'd, And left me wreck'd beneath this willow shade; Let me not live, to tyrant love, a slave, First let me perish in this wat'ry grave!