Songs, Song XIII

When Damon languish'd at my feet, And I believ'd him true, The moments of delight how sweet! But ah! how swift they flew! The sunny hill, the flow'ry vale, The garden and the grove, Have echo'd to his ardent tale, And vows of endless love.

The conquest gain'd he left his prize, He left her to complain, To talk of joy with weeping eyes, And measure time by pain. But Heav'n will take the mourner's part In pity to despair, And the last sigh that rends the heart Shall wast the spirit there.