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And she, in simple beauty drest,
Ye lofty banks that Evan bound,
Ye lavish woods that wave around,
Which sweetly winds so far below;
Can all the wealth of India's coast
years in absence lost?
ELL my STREPHON that I dienu
Let echoes to each other tell,
To STREPHON's. ear, and all is well.
But gently breathe the fatal truth,
And soften every harsher sound,
The softest words too deep will wound,
Now, fountains, echoes, all be dumb;
For, should I cost my swajn a tear,
And grieve I bought wy rest so dcar.
From place to place, forlorn, I go,
* This is a very ingenious allusion to the popular notion that ghosts are not permitted to speak till first addressed by the beholder.
My inward pangs, my secret grief,
My soft consenting looks betray ; He loves, but gives me no relief ;
Why speaks not he who may ?
UAVE a silent sorrow herc,
A grief I'll no'er impart;
Bat it consumes my heart.
This cherisht woe, this loved despair,
My lot for ever be,
Be never known by thee.
And when pale characters of death
Shall mark this alter'd chcek,
My life's lost hope would speak,
I shall not raise my eyes to heaven,
Nor mercy ask for me;
R. B. SHERIDAN.
THERE is one dark' and sullen hour
Which fate decrees our lives should know, Else we should slight th' Almighty power,
sobie Wrapt in the joys we find below : 'Tis past, dear CYNTHIA, now let frowns begone;
A long, long penance I have done
In each soft hour of silent night
Your image in my dream appears
Slumber in joys, but wake in tears :
Let me not think I'am by you
* From the play of The Stranger, in the character of an unfaithful but penitent wife.
Can loving father ever prove
Swect soothing task! I daily trace