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The Works of John Sheffield

Earl of Mulgrave, Marquis of Normanby, and Duke of Buckingham. In two volumes ... The third edition, Corrected
  
  
  
  
  

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44

DESPAIR.

All hopeless of Relief,
Incapable of Rest,
In vain I strive to vent a Grief
That's not to be exprest.
This Rage within my Veins
No Reason can remove;
Of all the Mind's most cruel Pains,
The sharpest, sure, is Love.
Yet while I languish so,
And on thee vainly call;
Take heed, fair Cause of all my Woe,
What Fate may thee befall.

45

Ungrateful, cruel Faults
Suit not thy gentle Sex;
Hereafter, how will guilty Thoughts
Thy tender Conscience vex!
When welcome Death shall bring
Relief to wretched me,
My Soul enlarg'd, and once on Wing,
In haste will fly to thee.
When in thy lonely Bed,
My Ghost its Moan shall make,
With saddest Signs that I am dead,
And dead for thy dear Sake.
Struck with that conscious Blow,
Thy very Soul will start;
Pale as my Shadow thou wilt grow,
And cold as is thy Heart.

46

Too late Remorse will then
Untimely Pity show
To him, who of all mortal Men
Did most thy Value know.
Yet, with this broken Heart,
I wish thou never be
Tormented with the thousandth Part
Of what I feel for thee.