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Hers are the pangs of wounded pride,
In vain does memory renew
The hours once tinged in transports' dye;
The sad reverse soon starts to view,
And turns the past to agony.
Those pangs to every feeling due:
No cold approach, no alter'd mien,
That just would make suspicion start;
He made me blest, and broke my heart.
The tears I shed must ever fall! *
* An uncommon vein of pathetic tenderness runs through this piece, and strongly excites the sympathetic feelings.
F ever thou didst joy to bind
And bid FLORELLA bless my vow.
If any bliss reserved for me
Now, now the mighty treasure give,
In sterling love pay all the sum,
In all the pride of full-blown charms
But, Cupid, if thine aid be vain
If still with cold averted eyes
She dash my hopes, and scorn my sighs;
O grant ('tis all I ask of thee)
That I no more may change than she;
Leave me then alone to languish,
As near a weeping spring reclined, The beauteous ARAMINTA pined,
And mourn'd a false ungrateful youth; While dying echoes caught the sound, And spread the soft complaints around
Of broken vows and alter'd truth;
An aged shepherd heard her moan,
Address'd the lost despairing maid:
"Why shouldst thou waste such precious showers,
"Those liquid pearls from either eye, Which might an eastern empire buy, Unvalued here and fruitless fall;
No art the season can renew
"Cease, cease to grieve, thy tears are vain, Should those fair orbs in drops of rain Vie with a weeping southern sky;
For hearts o'ercome with love and grief
All nature yields but one relief:
AH stay! ah turn! ah whither would you fly,
Too charming, too relentless maid? I follow not to conquer, but to die; You of the fearful are afraid.
In vain I call; for she, like fleeting air,
SWEET maid, I hear thy frequent sigh,
In Rowe's "Fair Penitent."