Oh! say, thou dear Possessor of my Breast!
Where is my boasted Liberty and Rest?
...
Farewel that Liberty our Fathers gave,
In vain they gave, their Sons receiv'd in vain:
I saw Neæra, and her instant Slave,
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Adieu, ye Walls, that guard my cruel Fair,
No more I'll sit in rosy Fetters bound,
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Should Jove descend in Floods of liquid Ore,
And golden Torrents stream ...
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While calm you sit beneath your secret Shade,
And lose in pleasing Thought ...
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He who could first two gentle Hearts unbind,
And rob a Lover of his weeping Fair,
Hard was the Man, but harder in my Mind,
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With Wine more Wine deceive thy Master's Care,
Till creeping Slumber sooth his troubled Breast,
Let not a Whisper stir the silent Air,
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Thousands wou'd seek the lasting Peace of Death,
And in that Harbour shun the Storm of Care,
Officious Hope still holds the fleeting Breath,
She tells them still,-to morrow will be fair:
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Now Delia breathes in Woods the fragrant Air,
Dull are the Hearts that still in Town remain,
Venus her self attends on Delia there,
And Cupid sports amid the sylvan Train.
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Ah what avails thy Lover's pious Care?
His lavish Incense clouds the Sky in vain,
...