Acis and Galatea, HWV 49: "I rage, I melt, I burn!"
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I rage, I rage, I melt, I burn.
The feeble god has stabbed me to the heart.
Thou trusty pine, prop of my god-like steps,
I lay thee by!
Bring me a hundred reeds of decent growth,
To make a pipe for my capacious mouth;
In soft enchanting accents let me
Breathe sweet Galatea's beauty,
And my love.