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Die then, unhappy lover ! die;
For, since she gives thee death,

The world has nothing that can buy
A minute more of breath.

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xxiv. Set

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ELL : I will never more complain,
Or call the Fates unkind;
Alas ! how fond it is, how vain
But self-conceitedness does reign
In every mortal mind.

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Yet I by this have learnt the wit,
Never to grieve or fret :

Contentedly I will submit,

And think that best which they think fit,
Without the least regret.

XXV. Set by Mr. C. R. Chloë beauty has and wit,

And an air that is not common; Every charm in her does meet, Fit to make a handsome woman. Vo L. II. U But

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Jove the power knew of her charms,
And that no man could endure them,

So, providing 'gainst all harms,
Gave to her the power to cure them.

And 'twould be a cruel thing,
When her black eyes have rais'd defire,

Should she not her bucket bring,
And kindly help to quench the fire.

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‘’Twas she alone, could calm my soul,
When racking thoughts did grieve me;

Her eyes my trouble could control,
And into joys deceive me.

Farewel,

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