And Mira only dearer to my soul.
Ah! tell me not these empty joys to fly;
If they deceive, I would deluded die;
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To the fond themes my heart so early wed,
So soon in life to blooming visions led,
So prone to run the vague uncertain course—
'Tis more than death to think of a divorce.
What wills the poet of the favouring gods,
Led to their shrine, and blest in their abodes[13]?