Sincerity

My My darling dove, my treasure dear,
And is thy love indeed sincere?
If not sincere, O tell me so;
I will no longer near thee go.

'Twas long—and it will longer be
Ere other maid takes place of thee,
Whose feeble arms on me shall rest,
Upon my weary shoulders prest.

Plague on her, plague upon her name!
The maiden is a haughty dame;
Her mother is a witch, and they
Have plotted only to betray.