O could I now my piercing griefs conceal,
Nor add fresh anguish to the wounds you feel!
’Tis vain, alas! my bursting heart o’erflows,
And death I feel will terminate my woes!
It was for thee alone I wish’d to live;
The world without thee can no pleasure give.
Now law for one rash act thy life demands
Tho’ pure till then thy thoughts, unstain’d thy hands:
While villains hourly practis’d in deceit,
At freedom range, nor dread impending fate.