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ODE.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


75

ODE.

[Born to retrieve the honour, due]

Born to retrieve the honour, due
To Nature's golden Prime;
The first bright Nymph was bright, like You,
And once as free from crime.
Then, heav'nly-good, as well as fair,
Have pity on your Slave;
The Wretch your Merit bids despair,
Your Mercy yet might save.
Since to adore, we need but see
What Rival Beauties praise;
Ah! censure not unhappy me,
That I have eyes to gaze.
If envious fate withholds the bliss
To those dear arms confin'd,
I can but weep, and wish you His,
Who loves beyond Mankind.
But oh! that fruitless wish shall cease,
Those flowing tears be dry'd,
When kinder death restores the peace
My wretched Life deny'd.

76

Subdu'd by fond desires, I speak,
Though hopeless e'er to move;
And vent a heart that soon must break
In pangs of slighted Love.