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Rh &emsp;Thou never yet his power hat known; &emsp;Love its on a depotic throne, And reigns a tyrant, if he reigns at all.

&emsp;Now if thou art o lot a thing, &emsp;Here all thy tender orrows bring, And prove whoe patience longet can endure: &emsp;We'll trive whoe fancy hall be lot &emsp;In dreams of fondet paion mot; For if thou thus hat lov'd, oh! never hope a cure.

F ever thou didt joy to bind Two hearts in equal paion join'd, O on