"For who would trust the seeming sighs[[an]](#2998121706686403028_25340-h-4.htm.html#Footnote_AN)
      
      Of wife or paramour?
      Fresh feeres will dry the bright blue eyes
      We late saw streaming o'er.
      For pleasures past I do not grieve,
      Nor perils gathering near;
      My greatest grief is that I leave
      No thing that claims a tear.[[39]](#2998121706686403028_25340-h-4.htm.html#Footnote_39)