OH, dark-brow'd witch, thy laughing eyes Have smiled away the heart of me: To rend the wretch that lives for thee What torture next wilt thou devise? Wilt never drink thy fill of sighs— The fit reward of constancy? Oh, dark-brow'd witch, thy laughing eyes Have smiled away the heart of me. Say, Siren, say what need to prize My anguish? If thou wilt not be Mine own, in mercy set me free: Nor bend on love, that bleeding lies, Oh, dark-brow'd witch, thy laughing eyes! |