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Still, still about thy path, where’er
Thy steps are turn'd, my heart is there ;
While thou, perchance, wilt never more-

Oh, never, think on me, Love !

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While I through distant climes shall roam,
And sadly to the desert shore
My constant strain of sorrow pour,

And vainly call on thee, Love!
From morn to morn one theme of woe,
One only theme, my heart, can know;
While thou, perchance, wilt never more-

Ah, never, think on me, Love!

25

And on those scenes of vanish'd joys,
Those pleasant scenes, I oft shall gaze,
When swiftly pass’d the blissful days,

The days I pass'd with thee, Love!
For me shall ev'ry spot 1 view
My bleeding mem’ry's wounds renew;

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E tu, chi sa se mai
Ti sovverrai di me!

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Ecco, dirò, quel fonte,

Dove avvampò di sdegno,
Ma poi di pace

in

pegno La bella man mi diè. Qui si vivea di

speme, Là si languiva insieme;

E tu, chi sa se mai
Ti sovverrai di me!

40

Quanti vedrai giungendo

Al nuovo tuo soggiorno,
Quanti venirti intorno
A offrirti amore, e fe!

O Dio! chi sa fra tanti
Teneri omaggi, e pianti,
O Dio! chi sa se mai

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Ti sovverrai di me!

While thou, perchance, wilt never more

Ah, never, think on me, Love!

35

Beside this fount I saw thy brow
A moment cloud, but soon appeas'd
That beauteous hand with rapture seiz'd,

The pledge of peace with thee, Love! !
Here first I heard Hope's flatt'ring tone;
There fondly sigh’d, but not alone;
Yet thou, perchance, wilt never more-

Ah, never, think on me, Love!

40

And now around thy new abode,
Full many a heart like mine shall swell,
And many a tale of passion tell,

And vows of truth to thee, Love !
And thou, while all their homage pay,
And fondly weep, or softly pray,
Wilt thou, perchance, one moment ever,-

Oh, wilt thou, think on me, Love?

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Pensa qual dolce strale,

Cara, mi lasci in seno :
Pensa che amò Fileno
Senza sperar mercè !

Pensa, mia vita, a questo
Barbaro addio funesto;
Pensa ... Ah chi sa se mai

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Ti sovverrai di me!

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Oh, think on all the pangs I feel,
The wound that rankles in

my

breast:
I dar'd not hope—but, hope suppress’d,

Still fondly worshipp'd thee, Love!
Oh, think what anguish'd feelings swell,
In this last, bitt'rest fare-thee-well!
Oh, think — but thou wilt never more

No, never, think on me, Love !

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1823.

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