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'' Preserve the beauteous fair from being seen, 



'' Nor mountains dire^ nor oceans flow between. 



'■' A shallow water hinders my embrace; 



'' And yet the lovely mimic wears a face 



'' That kindly smiles; and Avhen I bend to join 



" My lips to hers, she fondly bends to mine. 



'^ Hear, gentle maid, and pity my complaint, 



" Come from thy well, thou fair inhabitant. 



'' My charms an easy conquest have obtained 



'' O'er other hearts, by thee alone disdainM. 



'' But why should I despair? I m sure she burns 



'' With equal flames, and languishes by turns. 



'' Whene'er I stoop, she kindly bends to me, 



" And when my arms I stretch, the same does she. 



" Her eye with pleasure on my face she keeps, 



'' She smiles my smiles, and when I weep she weeps. 



'' When e'er I speak, her moving lips appear 



'' To utter something, which I cannot hear.— 



'' Ah wretched me ! I now begin too late 

 '' To find out all the long-perplex'd deceit; 

 It is myself I love, myself I see; 

 The gay delusion is a part of me. 

 '' I kindle up the fires by which I burn, 

 '' And my own beauties from the well return. 

 '' Whom should I court? how utter my complaint? 

 Enjoyment but produces my restraint. 

 And too much plenty makes me die for want. 

 How gladly would I from myself remove! 

 '' And at a distance set the thing I love. 

 My breast is warm'd with such unusual fire, 

 I wish him absent whom I most desire. 

 And now I faint with grief; my fate draws nigh; 

 In all the pride of blooming youth I die. 

 Death will the sorrows of my heart relieve. 

 Oh might the visionary youth survive, 

 I should with joy my latest breath resign ! 

 " But oh ! I see his fate involved in mine." 



This said, the weeping youth again returned 

 To the clear fountain, where again he burn'd; 

 His tears defaced the surface of the well. 

 With circle after circle, as they fell: 

 And now the lovely face but half appears, 

 O'errun with wrinkles, and deform'd with tears. 

 Ah whither," cries Narcissus, " dost thou fly? 

 Let me still feed the flame by which I die ; 

 Let me still see, though I'm no further blest." 

 Then rends his garments off, and beats his breast: 



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