I take no pleasure in the sun's bright beams

I take no pleasure in the sun's bright beams,

Nor in the crystal river's purling streams;

But in a dark and silent shady grove,

I sigh out woes of my neglected love.

Come, cruel fair, and charm me, ere I go

To Death's embraces in the shades below.

For tho' condemn'd and fetter'd here I lie,

'Till I your sentence have, I cannot die.

One look from those dear eyes, and then adieu

To all your cruelties and beauties too.