Pills to Purge Melancholy.
373
Was not I born to wear your Chain,
I should delight to rove;
From your cold Province of Disdain,
To some warm Land of Love.
I should delight to rove;
From your cold Province of Disdain,
To some warm Land of Love.
But shou’d a gentle Nymph when try’d,
To me prove well inclin’d;
My destin’d Heart must yet reside,
With you the most unkind;
So destin’d Exiles as they roam,
While kindly us’d elsewhere;
Still languish after Native home,
Tho’ Death, Death is threatned there.
To me prove well inclin’d;
My destin’d Heart must yet reside,
With you the most unkind;
So destin’d Exiles as they roam,
While kindly us’d elsewhere;
Still languish after Native home,
Tho’ Death, Death is threatned there.
Finis.
