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To the same; enquiring why I wept.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

To the same; enquiring why I wept.

You fix a Dagger in my Heart,
You wound me in the tend'rest Part,
And then enquire the Reason of my Smart.
Alas! you talk of Death and Woe
That you must quickly undergo;
Yet ask the Cause whence all my Sorrows flow.
Ah! do you think my Love so small,
That I could part with Thee, my all,
Yet not permit one friendly Tear to fall?

148

Tell me, my dear Olinda, why
You question my Fidelity,
Methinks with Thee I cou'd ev'n wish to die.