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BELL, thy looks have kill‘d my heart,

I paſs the day in pain

When night returns I feel the ſmart,

and wiſh for them in vain,

I'm ſtarving in cold, while thou art warm:

have pity and incline,

And grant me for a hap that charming petticoat of thine.

My raviſh'd fancy in amaze,

ſtill wanders o‘er thy charms,

Deluſive dreams ten thouſand ways,

preſent thee to my arms

By waking think what I endure,

while cruel you decline,

Thoſe pleaſures, who can only cure,

this panting breaſt of mine.

I faint, I fail, and wildly rove,

becauſe you ſtill deny

The juſt reward that‘s due to love,

and let true paſſion die.

Oh! turn and let compaſſion ſeize

that lovely breaſt of thine;