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 If lovely Gullni was not ſo diſtreſs'd. Does heav'n on you its choiceſt gifts beſtow, Only to plunge you in a gulph of woe? To ſave us both one way alone remains, One way to extricate us from our pains, A ſcheme for your repoſe is my deſire, I yield to what the gracious gods inſpire. How can I have the fortitude to ſell, That I my Gulfni can deſign to ſell? How can you talk of happineſs ſhe cries, While pearly tears ran ſtreaming from her eyes; Tis you alone my tortur'd breaſt can eaſe, When Bekir's gone, all objects ceaſe to pleaſe. You ſacrifice your joy to my repoſe, And ſhall I heſitate to heal your woes. Then to an Emir's be the fair convey'd, Who with aſtoniſhment the ſlave ſurvey'd, And thus in extacies of joy he ſaid: What lovely ſhape! what hair! what mouth! what eyes! Happy the man poſſeſs’d of ſuch a prize. What ſum can purchaſe ſuch a heavenly creature, The pride, the ornament of human nature: Ten thouſand crowns the afflicted lover ſaid, Which ſum with pleaſure the Arabian paid: The dreaded moment came, when they muſt part, And Bekir tear his miſtreſs from his heart. Rough and diſheveld was her aburn 'hair, down her roſy cheek deſcends the tear;