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〈♫〉〈♫〉 HOw I have serv'd, how just or true, I need appeal to none but you; for all my Thoughts from you took Birth, my sole Di-vi—ni—ty on Earth: Nor does a Wish, which upward flies, petition from Heav'ns Deities, ought but to fall your much-lov'd Sa-cri- fice. When Tongue griev'd, Accents can no more impart, and Sighs lament ex—piring Heart; when Anguish'd Soul in strong Convulsion lyes, and rapid Tears o'reflowing melting Eyes; then, then Cla—ri—a—na, you'l find, and grieve, a fleeting Life no Pow'r can retrieve; nor