The Question

Since freed from Love's enchanting Pains,
Your Heart no longer wears my Chains;
Since the gay Folly charms no more,
And all the dear Delusion's o'er:
Yet tell me, Damon , do you prove
In Freedom, Joys so pure as Love?
Alike unfelt its Pains or Sweets,
Your Heart an equal Measure beats:
No longer Hope and Fear maintain
Within your Breast a doubtful Reign:
Unpleas'd, nor caring if you please,
Lost in a dull inactive Ease.
Since then for this you could forego
The Lover's sweetly-pleasing Woe;
Forsake those bright enliv'ning Fires,
Gay Hopes, and elegant Defires;
The mutual Wish, the equal Flame,
The Sorrows, Fears, and Hopes, the same.
Oh say, what Joys can Freedom boast,
Like those sweet Torments you have lost.
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