By that smile which made me blest, <br />And left me soon the wretch you see- <br />By that heart I once possest, <br />Which now, they say, is given to thee- <br />By St. Clara's wrongs and woes- <br />Trust not young Glenarvon's vows. <br /> <br /> <br />By those lays which breathe around <br />A poet's great and matchless art- <br />By that voice whose silver sound <br />Can soothe to peace th' imprisoned heart- <br />By every bitter pang I prove- <br />Trust not young Glenarvon's love. <br /> <br /> <br />Each brighter, kinder hope forsaking, <br />Bereft of all that made life dear <br />My health impaired, my spirit breaking, <br />Yet still too proud to shed one tear: <br />O! lady, by my wrongs and woes, <br />Trust not young Glenarvon's vows. <br /> <br /> <br />And when at length the hand of death <br />Shall bid St. Clara's heart be still- <br />When struggling with its latest breath, <br />His image shall her fancy fill, <br />Ah trust to one whose death shall prove <br />What fate attends Glenarvon's love.<br /><br />Lady Caroline Lamb<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/by-that-smile-which-made-me-blest/
