"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)