‖: Fond echo! forego thy light strain,
And heedfully hear a lost maid;
Go, tell the false ear of the swain
How deeply his vows have betrayed. :‖
‖: Go, tell him, what sorrows I bear;
See, yet if his heart feel my woe:
’Tis now he must heal my despair,
Or death will make pity too slow, :‖
Or death will make pity too slow.