The first time that the sun rose on thine oath To love me, I looked forward to the moon To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.

Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;And, looking on myself, I seemed not one For such man's love!--more like an out-of-tune Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste, Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.

I did not wrong myself so, but I placed A wrong on thee.For perfect strains may float 'Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced, -And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.