介绍青少年电竞夏令营

Presently thou shalt confess, that what I tell thee is true.Now that thou serv'st me more idly, where are the beauteous figures,

He finds has from his tender members fled;No longer has he strength to plume his wing,No longer strength to raise his head, poor thing!E'en in enjoyment's hour his life he loses,His little foot to bear his weight refuses;So on he sips, and ere his draught is o'er,Death veils his thousand eyes for evermore.

At his feet she now must sink,