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Wuy, Delia, ever while I gaze
From sweetest airs I sought relief,
To pleasures of a different kind
When drooping on the bed of pain,
When pitying friends stood weeping by,
66 Absence may bring relief,” I cried,
And straight the dreadful hope I tried;
While from my looks, fair nymph, you guess
The secret passions of my mind, My heavy eyes, you say, confess
A heart to love and grief inclined.
There needs, alas! but little art
To have this fatal secret found;
Tis certain you may show the wound.
How How can I see you, and not love,
While you as opening East are fair ? While cold as northern blasts you prove,
How can I love, and not despair ?
The wretch in double fetters bound
Your potent mercy may release ;
Fair prophetess! my grief would cease.
He heavy hours are almost past
That part my love and me;
Their only wish to see.
But how, my Delid, will you meet
The man you've lost so long? Will love in all your pulses beat,
And tremble on your tongue ?
Will you in every look declare
Your heart is still the same; And heal each idly anxious care
Our fears in absence frame?
Thus, DELIA, thus I paint the scene
When shortly we shall meet, And try what yet remains between
of loit'ring time to cheat.
But if the dream that soothes
mind Shall false and groundless prove, If I am doom'd at length to find
You have forgot to love;
All I of Venus ask is this,
No more to let us join :
Ir wine and music have the power
To ease the sickness of the soul, Let Phæbus every string explore,
And Bacchus fill the sprightly bowl:
Let them their friendly aid employ
To make my Chloe's absence light, And seek for pleasure, to destroy
The sorrows of this livelong night.
But she tomorrow will return;
Venus, be thou tomorrow great ; Thy myrtles strew, thy odours burn,
And meet thy fav’rite nymph in state. Kind goddess, to no other powers
Let us tomorrow's blessings own; The darling Loves shall guide the hours, And all the day be thine alone.
Honest lover, whosoever,
And to love true,