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vainly, vainly burns my breast,

It burns an unextinguish'd fire;

And what can still desire to rest?

What stop the ragings of desire?

love, can burning love be quell'd

By love's reciprocal return?

Alas! the fires my bosom held,

Still raging in that bosom burn.

thorns around the rose-stem grew

There pour'd I forth my plaints forlorn;

Where my desire to sadness flew,

There did the rose-stem feed the thorn.

! where desire to sadness fled,

It was my only lot to sigh,

Where thorns were by the roses fed,

There did my plaints ascend on high.