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22

Dear to the Sun, thou happy plant receive,
The soft impressions Love alone can give.
As still your lasting leaves from change are free,
So may my Chlora boast her constancy:
But may not all my hopes as fruitless prove,
From her I ask a kind return of Love.
While thy fair head shall proudly wave in air,
Thy growing bark her lovely name shall bear,
Together shall they grow, together bloom,
No storms shall harm them, nor shall age consume,
The Nymphs who guard yon fountains chrystal [?].
Or haunt the steep rock's wildly tangled cave;
Each woodland Diety in early spring,
Dancing beneath thy shade thy praise shall sing.
Each tennant of the Wood shall yield to Thee;
Thine shall the praise, and thine the Empress be
Not the dark Fir, the Pine, the Oak alone,
But [?] Palms and shining Holm.
No other leaves my brows shall e'er surround,
No plant but Thee in all my songs be found.

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