Let us lose our lengthy days of ardour
Luxuriating in our languid love -
Or, rather, should we reign in tight the rage
Of rapture bursting to express its force?
The fauns who haunt the forest dark are fierce,
The darts from Cupid's bow are sent to pierce
The coldest heart, and order it to blaze,
As does mine now, to see your ardent gaze.
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