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DOROTHY.

Not less I dream her mute desire

To acred churl and booby squire,

Now pale, with timorous eyes that filled

At "twice-told tales" of foxes killed;

Now trembling when slow tongues grew free 'Twixt sport, and Port-and Dorothy!

'Twas then she'd seek this nook, and find

Its evening landscape balmy-kind;

And here, where still her gentle name

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Next, with a pause,-she bent the while

Over a rose, with roguish smile

"But how disgusted, sir, you'll be

To hear I scrawled that 'Dorothy.'"

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O harmless tenant of the flood!

I do not wish to spill thy blood,
For Nature unto thee

Perchance hath given a tender wife,

And children dear, to charm thy life,

As she hath done for me.

THE CONTRAST.

Enjoy thy stream, O harmless fish;

And when an angler for his dish,

Through gluttony's vile sin,

Attempts, a wretch, to pull thee out,

God give thee strength, O gentle trout,

To pull the raskall in!

JOHN WOLCOT.

THE CONTRAST.

N London I never know what I'd be at,

IN

Enraptured with this, and enchanted with that, I'm wild with the sweets of variety's plan, And Life seems a blessing too happy for man.

But the country, Lord help me! sets all matters right,

So calm and composing from morning to night; Oh! it settles the spirits when nothing is seen But an ass on a common, a goose on a green.

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