Song. To
TO — — —
In vain to melt that heap of snow,
Which keeps your virgin heart so cold,
Soft Pity caus'd the tear to flow
As my sad hopeless tale I told.
Then cease to pity; for your eye,
Your radiant eye, and breast, appear
More lovely heaving with a sigh,
And brighter glistening through a tear.
In vain to melt that heap of snow,
Which keeps your virgin heart so cold,
Soft Pity caus'd the tear to flow
As my sad hopeless tale I told.
Then cease to pity; for your eye,
Your radiant eye, and breast, appear
More lovely heaving with a sigh,
And brighter glistening through a tear.
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