Urns and odours bring away! Vapours, sighs, darken the day! Our dole more deadly looks than dying; Balms and gums and heavy cheers, Sacred vials fill`d with tears, And clamours through the wild air flying! Come, all sad and solemn shows, That are quick-eyed Pleasure`s foes! We convent naught else but woes.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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