I FEED 1 a flame within, which so torments me |
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That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me; |
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’Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it, |
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That I had rather die than once remove it. |
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Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it; |
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My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it. |
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Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses, |
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But they fall silently, like dew on roses. |
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Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel, |
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My heart ’s the sacrifice, as ’tis the fuel; |
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And while I suffer this to give him quiet, |
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My faith rewards my love, though he deny it. |
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On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me; |
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While I conceal my love no frown can fright me. |
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To be more happy I dare not aspire, |
15 |
Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher. |