SHOULD Love, the tyrant of my suffering heart,
Yet long enough protract his votary's days,
To see the lustre from those eyes depart,
The lode-stars now*, that fascinate my gaze;
To see rude Time the living roses blight,
That o'er thy cheek their loveliness unfold,
And all unpitying, change thy tresses bright,
To silvery whiteness, from their native gold;
Oh! then thy heart an equal change will prove,
And mourn the coldness that repelled my love,
When tears and penitence will all be vain;
And I shall see thee weep for days gone by,
And in thy deep regret and fruitless sigh,
Find amplest vengeance for my former pain.