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"O World! so few the years we live,

Would that the life which thou dost give
Were life indeed!
Alas! thy sorrows fall so fast,
Our happiest hour is when at last
The soul is freed.

Our days are covered o'er with grief,
And sorrows neither few nor brief
Veil all in gloom;
Left desolate of real good,
Within this cheerless solitude
No pleasures bloom.

Thy pilgrimage begins in tears,
And ends in bitter doubts and fears,
Or dark despair;
Midway so many toils appear,
That be who lingers longest here
Knows most of care.
Thy goods are bought with many a groan
By the hot sweat of toil alone,
And weary hearts;
Flcet-footed is the approach of woe,
But with a lingering step and slow
Its form departs."

Note 45, p. 229.—My grave! Nils Juel was a celebrated Danish admiral, and Peder Wessel a vice-admiral, who, for his great prowess, received the popular title of Tordenskiold, or Thunder-shield. In childhood he was a tailor's apprentice, and rose to his high rank before the age of twenty-eight, when he was killed in a duel


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