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Poems, Songs and Love-Verses

upon several Subjects. By Matthew Coppinger

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To Clelia.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

To Clelia.

Shall still my suit prove void, then bid me die,
I onely hope in vain, tell me, shall I
Enjoy that very word torments my Soul;
Your Eyes do promise what you will Control.
Beauty 's too great to be a Tyrant there,
I harbour nothing now but sad despair,
Adore ing you, my hopes are nought but Air.