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Rh Thy soften’d bosom now relents, Of all its cruelty repents, Gives to remorse the fervent sigh,— Sweet pity’s tear bedews thine eye. Now love lights up its hallow’d fire, Melts all thy heart with chaste desire: Whilst in thy soul new feelings burn, O! Morvyth, to thy bard return; One tender look will cure his pain, Will bid him rise to life again, A life like that of saints above, Ecstatic joy, and endless love.