Sonnet XIX

Farewell, false Friend!—our scenes of kindness close!

To cordial looks, to sunny smiles farewell!

To sweet consolings, that can grief expel,

And every joy soft sympathy bestows!

For alter'd looks, where truth no longer glows,

Thou hast prepar'd my heart;—and it was well

To bid thy pen th' unlook'd for story tell,

Falsehood avow'd, that shame, nor sorrow knows.—

O! when we meet,—(to meet we're destin'd, try

To avoid it as thou may'st) on either brow,

Nor in the stealing consciousness of eye,

Be seen the slightest trace of what, or how

We once were to each other;—nor one sigh

Flatter with weak regret a broken vow!