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Will sigh for something dearer. What is life Unblest by sweet affection? Isabel, Can'st thou imagine aught that could console Thy Julian for the loss of thy loved smile? Oh flatterer, as false as thou art fair, I think thou dost not love me; what new oath Wilt thou invent? I'll not believe a vow That I have heard before. Dear Isabel, I can no longer loiter here, the morn Is breaking, and this fond, fond kiss alone Must speak my love. Alas, thy silent tears Flow faster than my lip can dry them; sweet, Our separation shall be brief,—at night I will return. 'Tis time that thou wert gone; The day is dawning fast; fly, Julian;