save in these arms of thine, love.

o wert thou, c.

cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part,

to poison fortune's ruthless dart—

let me not break thy faithful heart,

and say that fate is mine, love.

o wert thou, c.

but, dreary tho' the moments fleet,

o let me think we yet shall meet;

that only ray of sce sweet,

can on thy chloris shine, love!

o wert thou, c.