If a dark wretch e'er stray'd,
Worse than the first fell slayer,
'Tis he that wooes a maid,
To rifle and betray her!
For wealth may be retriev'd,
And friends long doom'd to sever,
But the fond heart deceiv'd,
Hath lost its peace for ever!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem