All night and day I languish on;
the sick man none can save
Since those bright eyes have laid him low,
to your stern laws a slave;
If thus to those you love
a meed of care you bring,
What pain, fair Iris, will you find
your foemen's hearts to wring?
the sick man none can save
Since those bright eyes have laid him low,
to your stern laws a slave;
If thus to those you love
a meed of care you bring,
What pain, fair Iris, will you find
your foemen's hearts to wring?
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