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Yet Love, if Love in such an hour
Could nobly check its useless sighs, Might then exert its latest power
In her who lives and him who dies.
5. "Twere sweet, my Psyche! to the last
Thy features still serene to see: Forgetful of its struggles past,
E'en Pain itself should smile on thee.
But vain the wish—for Beauty still
Will shrink, as shrinks the ebbing breath; And woman's tears, produced at will,
Deceive in life, unınan in death.
Then lonely be my latest hour,
Without regret, without a groan! For thousands Death hath ceased to lower,
And pain been transient or unknown.
Where all have gone, and all must go!
Ere born to life and living woe!
9. Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen,
Count o'er thy days from anguish free, And know, whatever thou hast been,
'Tis something better not to be.
“ Heu quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse!”
As aught of mortal birth;
Too soon return'd to Earth!
2. I will not ask where thou liest low,
Nor gaze upon the spot;
So I behold them not:
Like common earth can rot;
3. Yet did I love thee to the last
As fervently as thou,
And canst not alter now.
Nor falsehood disavow :
4. The better days of life were ours;
The worst can be but mine: The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers,
Shall never more be thine.
The silence of that dreamless sleep
Nor need I to repine
The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd
Must fall the earliest prey;
The leaves must drop away:
Than see it pluck'd to-day;
To see thy beauties fade;
Had worn a deeper shade :
Extinguish'd, not decay'd;
As once I wept, if I could weep
My tears might well be shed,
One vigil o'er thy bed;
Uphold thy drooping head;
Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,
Than thus remember thee!
Returns again to me,