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Translated from the Italian Poets.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


113

Translated from the Italian Poets.

To his Ring.

Thou little Ring, dearly belov'd by me,
Kist by my Spouse as oft as I kiss thee,
Altho thou'rt nobly deckt with sparkling Pride;
Rich with the Relicks of the Indian Tide,
Yet I on this account esteem thee more
That she first wore thee on her Hand before,
And when she first design'd this Gift for me,
Sighing, she said, scarce can I part with thee;
Oh! I will always have thee in my Sight,
And for her Sake I'll kiss thee Day and Night;
When ere I wash my Hands, my Breast shall be
The only Place that I think fit for thee.