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Rh As these reflections by me file,

Rise griefs in like degree;

And thou, who knows, if thou the while

Wilt e'er ev'n think of me?

Then as I hours of glory call

Those when I thee beheld;

And of my griefs the sources all

When from thy sight repell'd;

A thousand times the thoughts enhance

The doom 't is mine to see,

Meanwhile who knows, if thou perchance

Wilt e'er ev'n think of me?

When in the heavens I view unfurl'd

The awful signs arise,

With which the Ruler of the world

Poor mortals terrifies;

When sounds are in the deepest caves

Of horrid thunderings nigh,

And of the seas the troubled waves

Rage furiously on high;

When by the south wind is impell'd

The proud Tyrrhenian main,

As if from its deep bosom swell'd

To assault the starry train;