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But now no more by Fancy's aid I trace, In visions wild "the days of other years," Sad rising thoughts her lively traits erase, And nearer, simpler sorrows claim my tears.
From Metastasio 1795
O'learn from me, ye Shocks, and Fountains learn, To call my absent Thyrsis to return. Now far away perhaps he'll faithless prove, And for some other Fair forget his Love. When at our last, our silent, sad adieu, Regardless of my tears th'Ingrate flew; With hair dishevelled, pale, and wild with grief, In vain I sought amidst thy shades relief. My Soul o'ercome with woe, worn out with care, Languid and faint, submitted to despair. O! if when him I fear'd his love to try, Can I in absence hope his constancy!
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Yet fate so wills, that I sh'd risk to prove, Faith and compassion in an absurd Love. Alas! over now before my fearful eyes, The shades of Death in solemn honors rise, Absent from Him its pangs still keener grow, His absence adds new terrors to the blow. Yet once again to thee fair Hope I turn, With thee whimsy Thyrsis I discern; "While far from Thee" he cries "no joy I know," "Dark was each day thus spent from Love and you "Yet even then my truth I still can't boast," "Tho' absent from this dear this friendly coast," "Rejoice my Love! forget your anxious fears," "Rejoice my Love! I come to dry your tears." Thus does that flatterer Hope whom I adore, Add to each abject charms unknown before, She still attends, nor leaves us when we die, And even in Death preserves our Constancy.