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Thousand Lines :

NOW FIRST OFFERED

TO THE WORLD WE LIVE IN.

O deem not, midst this worldly strife,
An idle art the Poet brings,-

Let high Philosophy control
And Sages calm the stream of life,
'Tis he refines its fountain springs,
The nobler passions of the soul.

CAMPBELL.

LONDON: J. HATCHARD & SON, 187, PICCADILLY.

1845.

LONDON:

PRINTED BY J. G. PALMER, SAVJY STREET STRANI).

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A THOUSAND LINES.

PROLOGUE.

My heart presents her gift; in turn, of thee

I ask a little time, an idle hour, Kindly to spend with these my thoughts and me,

Wooing the fragrance of the Muses' bower : Not without name or note, yet nameless now

As one devoid of fame and skill and power,

Bearing no charge upon mine argent shield, A candidate unknown with vizored brow,

Full of young hopes I dare the tented field — Not so :—this is no time for measuring swords ;

Thou art no craven though thy spirit yield, For yonder are fair looks and friendly words :

Choose a more peaceful image :-here, reveald Shines a small sample of my golden hoards.

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