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WHEN eyes are beaming

What never tongue might tell,
When tears are streaming

From their crystal cell ;
When hands are linked that dread to part,
And heart is met by throbbing heart,
Oh! bitter, bitter is the smart

Of them that bid farewell!

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When hope is chidden

That fain of bliss would tell,
And love forbidden

In the breast to dwell ;
When fettered by a viewless chain,
We turn and gaze, and turn again,
Oh ! death were mercy to the pain,

Of them that bid farewell !


God that madest Earth and Heaven,

Darkness and light!
Who the day for toil hast given,

For rest the night!
May thine angel guards defend us,
Slumber sweet thy mercy send us,
Holy dreams and hopes attend us,

This livelong night!


HILL! whose high daring with renew'd success
Hath cheer'd our tardy war, what time the cloud
Of expectation, dark and comfortless,
Hung on the mountains; and


factious crowd Blasphem'd their country's valour, babbling loud! Then was thine arm reveal'd, to whose young

might, By Toulon's leaguer'd wall, the fiercest bow'd; Whom Egypt honour'd, and the dubious fight Of sad Corunna's winter, and more bright Douro, and Talavera's gory bays ; Wise, modest, brave, in danger foremost found. O still, young warrior, may thy toil-earn’d praise, With England's love, and England's honour

crown'd, Gild with delight thy Father's latter days!




AMBITION's voice was in my ear, she whisperd

yesterday, “ How goodly is the land of Room, how wide the

Russian sway! How blest to conquer either realm, and dwell

through life to come, Lull’d by the harp's melodious string, cheer'd by

the northern drum !” But Wisdom heard ; “ O youth,” she said, “ in

passion's fetter tied, O come and see a sight with me shall cure thee

of thy pride!" She led me to a lonely dell, a sad and shady

ground, Where many an ancient sepulchre gleamed in the

moonshine round.

And " Here Secunder sleeps," she cried ;

66 this is his rival's stone; And here the mighty chief reclines who rear'd the

Median throne. Inquire of these, doth aught of all their ancient

pomp remain, Save late regret, and bitter tears for ever, and in

vain ? Return, return, and in thy heart engraven keep

my lore; The lesser wealth, the lighter load, -small blame

betides the poor.”

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