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The RESOLUTION.

AN ODE.

Love shall no more my soul molest;
Nor triumph in my peaceful breast;
I'll sigh no more for Celia's charms;
Nor bliss expect from Myra's arms.

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'Tis brighter glory fires my bosom now,
Bright glory claims my ev'ry ardent vow.
My mind from Cupid's setters free,
Superior soars to luxury;
To all the pleasures that controll
The efforts of th'aspiring soul.
'Tis brighter, &c.
'Tis gen'rous glory thus inspires
My soul, with martial fierce desires;
Tis glory gives the warrior fame,
'Tis glory gives the lasting name.
'Tis brighter, &c.
A willing slave was once my heart
To love, and bless'd the pleasing smart;
But Cupid now my soul disdains,
Alike his pleasures, or his pains.
'Tis brighter glory fires my bosom now,
Bright glory claims my ev'ry ardent vow.