Harden now thy tired heart, with more than flinty rage!

Harden now thy tired heart, with more than flinty rage!
Ne'er let her false tears henceforth thy constant grief assuage!
Once true happy days thou saw'st when she stood firm and kind,
Both as one then lived and held one ear, one tongue, one mind:
But now those bright hours be fled, and never may return;
What then remains but her untruths to mourn?

Silly trait'ress, who shall now thy careless tresses place?
Who thy pretty talk supply, whose ear thy music grace?
Who shall thy bright eyes admire? what lips triumph with thine?
Day by day who'll visit thee and say "Th'art only mine"?
Such a time there was, God wot, but such shall never be:
Too oft, I fear, thou wilt remember me.