To Rosa.

A poem by Thomas Moore

A far conserva, e cumulo d'amanti.
"Past. Fid."


And are you then a thing of art,
Seducing all, and loving none;
And have I strove to gain a heart
Which every coxcomb thinks his own?

Tell me at once if this be true,
And I will calm my jealous breast;
Will learn to join the dangling crew,
And share your simpers with the rest.

But if your heart be not so free,--
Oh! if another share that heart,
Tell not the hateful tale to me,
But mingle mercy with your art.

I'd rather think you "false as hell,"
Than find you to be all divine,--
Than know that heart could love so well,
Yet know that heart would not be mine!

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