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Tixall Poetry.
Your dangling tresses are like chaines,
Tying me to eternall paines;
O, if an angell torture soe,
My life must pass in endlesse woe!
Tying me to eternall paines;
O, if an angell torture soe,
My life must pass in endlesse woe!
LXXII.
The Jealous Lover.
Forgive me, if your looks I thought
Did once some change discover;
To be too jelous is the fault
Of every tender lover.
Did once some change discover;
To be too jelous is the fault
Of every tender lover.
My truth those kind reproches show,
Which you blame so severely:
A signe, alas! you little know,
What 'tis to love sincerely.
Which you blame so severely:
A signe, alas! you little know,
What 'tis to love sincerely.
The torments of a long dispair
I did in silence smother,
I did in silence smother,
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