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Poems

Act 4 — AFTER METASTASIO

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If seeking me she ask “What hap Befel him? Whither is he fled, My friend, my poor unhappy friend?” Then softly answer “He is dead.” Yet no! May never pang so keen Be hers, and I the giver! Say, If word be spoken, this alone, “Weeping for you he went his way.”

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