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Let bright cheeks wear yet brighter rays If they can catch Prince ' gaze; Be thine in all that honour'd name, Men hold to emulate is fame; Yet not the less my curse shall rest, A serpent coiling in thy breast. Weariness, like a weed, shall spring Wherever is thy wandering. Thy heart a lonely shrine shall be, Guarded by no divinity. Thou shalt be lonely, and shalt know It is thyself has made thee so. Thou hast been faithless, and shalt dread Deceit in aught of fondness said. Go, with the doom thou 'st made thine own! Go, false one! to thy grave—alone.—