Page:Poems (Barbauld).djvu/81

Rh But,, if thine aid be vain The dear reluctant maid to gain; If till with cold averted eyes She dah my hopes, and corn my ighs;

O! grant ('tis all I ak of thee) That I no more may change than he; But till with duteous zeal love on, When every gleam of hope is gone.

Leave me then alone to languih; Think not time can heal my anguih; Pity the woes which I endure; But never, never grant a cure.