The Return Home, 76

I in youthful years did languish,
Suffer’d many a bitter anguish
From love’s fiery glow.
Wood is now so dear, the fire
Will for lack of fuel expire--
Ma foi! ’tis better so.

Think of this, O youthful fair one!
Chase away the tears that wear one,
And all foolish love’s alarms;
If thy life may not have perish’d,
O forget thy love once cherish’d--
Ma foi! within my arms.