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She
sung

of the slave's broken chain,
Wherever her glory appeared.

The Morning Dream.

Beware of desperate steps. The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, will have passed away.

The Needless Alarm.

Misses ! the tale that I relate,

This lesson seems to carry-
Choose not alone a proper mate,
But proper time to marry.

Pairing Time Anticipated.

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000

Soul of the

age

!
The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage !
My Shakspere rise ! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
A little further, to make thee a room ;
Thou art a monument without a tomb,
And art alive still, while thy book doth live,
And we have wits to read and praise to give.

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Sweet Swan of Avon! what a sight it were
To see thee in our water yet appear,
And make those slights upon the banks of Thames,
That so did take Eliza and our James.

Lines to the Memory of Shakspere.

Drink to me only with thine eyes,

And I will pledge with mine ;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine. *

Song To Celia.

Underneath this sable hearse
Lies the subject of all verse,
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother ;
Death! ere thou hast slain another,
Learn'd and fair, and good as she,
Time shall throw a dart at thee.

Epitaph on the Countess of Pembroke.

* This song is frequently attributed to Tom Moore.

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