Since all thy vows, false maid, 
Are blown to air,
And my poor heart betray'd 
To sad despair,
Into some wilderness,
My grief I will express
And thy hardheartedness,
O cruel Fair!

Have I not grav’n our love
On ev’ry tree
In yonder spreading grove,
Though false thou be?
Was not a solemn oath
Plighted betwixt us both,
Thou thy faith, I my troth,
Constant to be?

 ... 

And when a ghost I am, 
I'll visit thee:
O thou deceitful dame, 
Whose cruelty
Has kill'd the kindest heart
That e'er felt Cupid's dart,
And never can desert
From loving thee.