(6)
Then shall thy heart be set by mine,
but in far different case;
For mine was true, so was not thine,
but look’d like Janus’ face:
For as the waves with every wind,
so sails thou ev'ry shore,
And leaves my constant heart behind,
How can I love thee more?
My heart shall with the sun be fixt,
For constancy most strange;
And thine shall with the moon be mixt,
delighting ay in change:
Thy beauty shin’d at first most bright,
and woe is me therefore,
That e’er I found thy love so light,
I could love thee no more.
The misty mountains, smoking lakes,
the rock’s resounding echo!
The whistling wind that murmur makes
shall all with me sing hey-ho;
The tossing seas, the tumbling boats,
tears dropping from each shore,
Shall tune with me their turtle-notes,
