Thou fairest Proof of Beauty's Pow'r,
Dear Idol of my panting Heart;
Nature points this my fatal Hour!
And I have liv’d, and we must part.

Whilst now I take my last Adieu
Heave thou no Sigh nor shed no Tear,
Lest yet my half clos’d Eye may view 
On Earth an Object worth its Care.

From Jealousy’s tormenting Strife
Forever be thy Bosom freed
That nothing may disturb thy Life
Content I hasten to the dead.

Yet when some better fated Youth
Shall thee to am’rous Parley move,
Reflect on Moment on his Truth
Who dying thus persists to love.