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Rh

Come to my arms, and lay thy gentle head Upon my beating heart—a stormy nest For such a tender dove: safe from all ills Thou should'st repose, rocked calmly to thy rest, A guardian angel bending o'er thee; sounds Of lulling sweetness, soft ambrosial airs, Instead of these hot tears, these stifled sighs, And the wild throbbing of my tortured breast. I shall be calmer soon; but thou, my love, How wilt thou bear thy sorrows? I have brought This dreadful blight upon thee; tell me, sweet, Is there redemption for a deed like mine? Thy pure orison, Veronica, join, And, mingled thus, my prayers may reach the skies. Canst thou, love, soothe me with the blessed hope, That even my crimes may be at last forgiven? Oh, it were sin to doubt it, dear Geraldi; Look up with confidence; unfeigned remorse,