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CRUEL invader of my rest,
Thy new assaults forbear:
Abandon’d to despair !
When I the dear deceiver view,
But absent from her eye,
I rave! I rage! I die !
Alone! I would thy force elude,
And doubt still revels here;
If Cynthia is not there.
All day I muse! all night I dream !
Nor take I food or rest :
Oh Love! thy wond'rous power I own,
And Cynthia bear a part:
And take away thy dart.
Oh! how vain is ev'ry blessing,
How insipid all our joys,
But when love its time employs !
Love, the purest, noblest pleasure,
That the gods on earth bestow, Adding wealth to ev'ry treasure,
Taking pain from ev'ry woe.
EXCOMPAss’d in an angel's frame,
An angel's virtues lay;
And call'd its own away.
My Anna's worth, my Anna's charms,
Must never more return;
Ah! me-my Anna's urn.