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22 "My Love! thou mock'st my weakness; and would'st steel

"My breast before the time when it must feel.

"But trifle now no more with my distress,

"Such mirth hath less of play than bitterness:

"Be silent,—Conrad!—dearest—come and share

"The feast these hands delighted to prepare—

"Light toil! to cull and dress thy frugal fare!

"See, I have pluck'd the fruit that promised best,

"And where not sure, perplex'd, but pleased, I guess'd

"At such as seem'd the fairest: thrice the hill

"My steps have wound to try the coolest rill;

"Yes! thy Sherbet to-night will sweetly flow,

"See how it sparkles in its vase of snow!

"The grape's gay juice thy bosom never cheers—

"Thou—more than Moslem—when the cup appears—

"Think not I mean to chide—for I rejoice

"What others deem a penance is thy choice.

"But come—the board is spread—our silver lamp

"Is trimm'd, and heeds not the Sirocco's damp:

"Then shall my handmaids while the time along,

"And join with me the dance, or wake the song;

"Or my guitar, which still thou lov'st to hear,

"Shall soothe or lull—or, should it vex thine ear,