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SONG.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

  
  
  

SONG.

Blame not that love, too cruel fair,
Which your own charms did first create;
Blame not my silence and despair, —
Such crimes can ne'er deserve your hate:
Why should your eyes first stir desire?
Your matchless wit, why fan the fire?
Repentance comes too late.
Vain are the vows that you complain
Are to another fondly made;
All your advice to me's as vain;
You must not — cannot be obey'd;
My heart can't change, though you command,
Nor can my heart obey your hand!
Love's power none can evade!