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In Pitty to each Sighing Maid,
Revive, come forth, be Gay and Glad;
Let the Young God of Love implore,
In Pity lend him Darts,
For when thy Charming Eies shall shoot no more;
He'll lose his Title of the God of Hearts.
In Pity to Astrea live,
Astrea, whom from all the Sighing Throng,
You did your oft-won Garlands give:
For
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