He call'd his friend, and prefaced with a sigh
A lover's message—"Thomas, I must die.
Would I could see my Sally, and could rest
My throbbing temples on her faithful breast,
210
And gazing go!—if not, this trifle take,
And say, till death I wore it for her sake.
Yes! I must die—blow on, sweet breeze, blow on!
Give me one look, before my life be gone,
Oh! give me that, and let me not despair,