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Oh, I remember when I first eluded you;
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You watched the stars till twelve, alert and true.
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Perhaps some sweetheart sleeps beside you now? If so,
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Your lot’s a better one than mine, you know.
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I’d even welcome shackles and complain no more.
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The midnight hours fly; unbar the door.
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Am I deceived, or did the door post shake and groan
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As hinges turned and made an awful moan?
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I am deceived! The wind just knocked the door ajar,
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Then took my hopes and scattered them afar.
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But Boreas, young Orithyia once was yours;
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Just think of her—and blast these stone-deaf doors.
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The still town’s dew collects; soon night will be no more.
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The midnight hours fly; unbar the door.
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Now if you don’t, with torch and crowbar, I will smash
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Your haughty house and turn it into ash.
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Night, Love, and Wine all counsel lack of self-restraint:
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Night knows no shame and Love and Wine no taint
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Of fear. But every prayer and threat I’ve tried has failed
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To move a man so thick and tightly nailed.
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And oh, my darling’s guard: to think that you prevailed,
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Who’s better fit to watch and ward the jailed!
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Already frosty Lucifer begins to roll;
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The cock cries “Wake and work!” to every soul.
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But you, you wretched garland snatched from off my head,
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Lie all night long on stone blocks that are dead.
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You’ll be the witness in the morning so she’ll know
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I spent this faithful, awful night in woe.
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And you, you slave: good-bye, and here’s your Parthian prize:
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You held, indifferent to this lover’s cries.
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Farewell to rigid threshold, post, and beam as well;
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You are this servant’s slaves, and never fell.
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I.7