The Forsaken to the False One. By Thomas Haynes Bayly . I dare thee to forget me ! go wander where thou wilt, Thy hand upon the vessel’s helm, or on the sabre’s hilt ; Away ! thou’rt free ! o’er land and sea, go rush to danger’s brink ! But oh, thou canst not fly from thought ! thy curse will be—to think ! Remember me ! remember all—my long-enduring love, That link’d itself to perfidy ; the vulture and the dove ! Remember in thy utmost need, I never once did shrink, But clung to thee confidingly ; thy curse shall be—to think ! Then go ! that thought will render thee a dastard in the fight, That thought when thou art tempest-tost, will fill thee with affright ; In some vile dungeon mayst thou lie, and, counting each cold link That binds thee to captivity, thy curse shall be—to think ! Go ! seek the merry banquet-hall, where younger maidens bloom, The thought of me shall make thee there endure a deeper gloom ; That thought shall turn the festive cup to poison while you drink, And while false smiles are on thy cheek, thy curse will be—to think ! Forget me ! false one, hope it not ! When minstrels touch the string, The memory of other days will gall thee while they sing ; The airs, I used to love will make thy coward conscience shrink, Aye, ev’ry note will have its sting—thy curse will be—to think ! Forget me ! No, that shall not be ! I’ll haunt thee in thy sleep, In dreams thou’lt cling to slimy rocks that overhang the deep ; Thou’lt shriek for aid ! my feeble arm shall hurl thee from the brink, And when thou wak’st in wild dismay, thy curse will be—to think !