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Youth's griefs are loud, but are not long ;
'Twas thine her infant mind to mould,
And leave the copy all thou art ; And sure the wide world does not hold A warmer or a purer heart !!
Written after a Battle.
I cannot weep, yet I can feel - *****
The pangs that rend a parent's breast ; But, ah! what sorrowing can unseal
Those eyes, and wake the slumberer's rest!
LINES ADDRESSED TO A LADY.
Oh, Lady! breathe no sigh for those,
Who rest in battle-field their head, 158
Thy pearly tears may stream around
As fairy hands could twine, And heart forlorn ne'er gave to love A sigh more pure than thine; Yet, Lady, weave no wreath for those, And let no tear be shed,
Who rest in battle-field their head, And sleep, amid their country's foes, The slumbers of the dead. For, oh! the warrior's fate may claim A brighter meed, a higher fame: He in the fields of glory fell, And thundering cannon rung his knell. For him there is a holier sigh In every wind that passes by;
And heaven more precious tears shall shed
END OF VOLUME SECOND.
Ann Wochen 1839
• The enjoyment of poetry demands no laborious intellectual intensity. It is upon the hours of our pleasure she descends,-it is our recreation she exalts. Thus, she makes our relaxations become the most dignified moments of our existence.'
Rev. C. Wolfe.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
PUBLISHED BY GEORGE A. DOUGLAS,
AND SOLD BY
CHARLES TILT, LONDON; AND W. CURRY JUN. AND COMPANY,