< Poems upon Several Occasions
To MYRA. SONG.
I'LL tell her the next time, said I:
In vain! in vain! for when I try,
Upon my timorous Tongue the trembling Accents die.
Alas! a thousand thousand Fears
Still over-awe when she appears,
My Breath is spent in Sighs, my Eyes are drown'd in Tears.
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