AN GAODHAL
103
WHEN FIRST I MET THEE.
Air — "O Patrick fly from me.
When first I met thee, warm and young,
There shone such truth about thee,
And on thy lip such promise hung,
I did not dare to doubt thee.
I saw the change, yet still relied,
Still clung with hope the fonder,
And thought, tho' false to all beside,
From me thou couldst not wander.
But go, deceiver ! go
The heart, whose hopes could make it
Trust one so false, so low,
Deserved that thou shouldst break it
When every tongue thy follies nam'd,
I fled th' unwelcome story;
Or found, in even the faults they blam'd
Some gleams of future glory.
I still was true, when nearer friends
Conspir'd to wrong, to slight thee:
The heart, that now thy falsehood rends,
Would then have bled to right thee.
But go, deceiver ! go —
Some day, perhaps, thou'lt waken
From pleasure's dream, to know
The grief of hearts forsaken.
Even now, tho' youth its bloom has shed,
No lights of age adorn thee:
The few, who loved thee once, have fled,
And they who flatter scorn thee.
The midnight cup is pledg'd to slaves,
No genial ties enwreath it;
The smiling there, like light on graves,
Has rank cold hearts beneath it.
Go — Go — tho' worlds were thine,
I would not now surrender
One taintless tear of mine
For all thy guilty splendor !
And days may come, thou false one ! yet,
When even those ties shall sever;
When thou will call with vain regret
On her thou hast lost for ever ;—
On her who, in thy fortune's fall,
With smiles had still received thee,
And gladly died to prove thee all
Her fancy first believed thee.
Go — go — 'tis vain to curse;
'Tis weakness to upbraid thee:
Hate cannot wish thee worse
Than guilt and shame have made thee.
