save in these ar of thine, love.

o wert thou, c.

cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part,

to poison fortune's ruthless dart—

let not break thy faithful heart,

and say that fate is ne, love.

o wert thou, c.

but, dreary tho' the nts fleet,

o let think we yet shall et;

that only ray of sce sweet,

can on thy chloris shine, love!

o wert thou, c.