Not so inconstant do we find
The waters of the sea
Not so inconstant is the wind
Its course to no fixed rules confined
That rages o’er the lea
As in the plighted vows of love
Man’s faithless sex to women prove
Then hapless Dido, weep the while
For Ictinus is gone to the lonely Isle
The willow wreath, the mournful vest
Must now, alas, be mine
And Oh that fate would calm to rest
The love that burns within my breast
Or bid it glow in thine
But fate nor bids me cease to mourn
Nor does my cruel swain return
Who faithless in another’s smile
Forgets me in the lonely Isle
Dido
June 18th