Am I then so soon deserted?
Is my boasted beauty gone?
Was I sought, and was I courted
For my gold alone?
Ah! dear girls, my grief behold!
Love will not be bought with gold.
In my home the lover found me,
Then these eyes had ne'er been dim,
Many friends were smiling round me,
Yet I welcomed him!
Oh! how could you change such bliss,
False one, to a doom like this?
Yet I loved you, and I swerve not
From the love I once profess:
Though such duty you deserve not,
I'll not love you less:
No, I came with my free will,
And, alas! I love you still.
Take my gold, ah! could I weave it
Into love's own precious chain,
Trust me, I would freely give it,
Were it mine again:
Faithful love forgets its pride,
Come to your deserted bride.