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What differing Passions from what once I felt,
My yielding Heart do melt,
And all my Blood as in a Feaver burns,
Yet shivering Cold by turns.
What new variety of hopes and fears?
What suddain fits of Smiles and Tears?
Hope! Why dost thou sometimes my Soul imploy
With Prospects of approaching Joy?
Why dost thou make me pleas'
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