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November, ISO Is thee, I fondly hop'd to clasp A iriend, whom death alone coidd sever; Till envy, with malignant grasp, Detach'd thee JVom my breast for ever. Our souls at least congenial meet, Nor can thy lot my rank disgrace ; Our intercourse is not less sweet, Since worth of rank supplies the place. Becher, on his adiiang the Author to mil more with Society - The Death of Calmar and Oi U. • lubd.ilaughterot Wl Ulim, Knirtb Lord Brion Igmt-gteat uncle of Uk FWel), becune, in 174S, the wifc of Henir, fca Md Eul of C.rliile, ud wi Aiuwn lo Un. Not here the mourner would his grief reveal, Not here the muse her virtues would relate. Her matchless spirit aoars Beyond where splendid shines the orb of day; And weeping angels lead her to those bowers Where endless pleasures virtue's deeds repay. ETC- SEOOND EDITION OF THESE POEMS IS IN8CEIBBD, Br BIS OBLIGED WARD AND AFFECTIONATE KINSMAN*, THE AUTHOR.Google This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books discoverable online. On thy dear breast 111 lay my head — Wi^out thee, where would be my heaven ? ' " Vthtt tbo Qiffa thj lire Uumt hli l UUnf Qdc*'* 3, Coo^le =, Coo^lc k Coo^Ic KOUKS or IDLKIIXSB. Whilst thou irast etru^ling ia the pangs of death [ Could tears retard the tyra Dt in his course ; Could sighs avert his dart's relentless iorce ; Could youth and virtue daim a short dela^.It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey ; ■ Too H of [lut ft»llng. a H the; Bm ^^ui Ed Id the prli Ua » Oh, Baji Ha mr Idt II, (n n« darl Vnut frul Uc* Uki hm t Mthed tli T i MBgn'd M«t I Whit i Lehi IB-echoed to thj pu Ung breatli, WUIetluxiiriinnnigg Bn Kln [taepupafdeiilli!Google Book Search helps readers discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. Composed entirely of verses written between the ages of fifteen and twenty-three, this volume, — even considered in a mere literary point of view, — must be allowed to stand alone in the history of Juvenile Poetry. And yet, perhaps, in some maturer year, Since chance has thrown us in the Belf-same sphere, Since the same senate, nay, the same debate. By my daughters, of kingdom and reason deprived ; Till, fired by loud plaudits (^) and self-adulation, I regarded myself as a Garrick revived.You can search through the full text of this book on the web at | //books .google .com/I =, Coo^lc =, Coo^lc =, Coo^lc Dk^ks W B5I5/? But every page of it is in feet, when rightly understood, a chapter of the author's *' confessions;" and it is by contenqilating these feithful records of the progress of his mind and feelings, in conjunction with those already presented in Uie prose no- tices of his life, — which mutually illustrate and confirm each other throughout, — that the reader can alone prepare himself for entering with full advantage on the first canto of Childe Harold. May one day claim our sufirage for the state, We hence may meet, and pass each other by With &int regard, or cold and distant eye. Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I r^et you I Unladed your memory dwells in my breast ; Though sad and deserted, I ne'er can forget you ; Your pleasures may still be in &ncy possest.
51 Since darkne Bs o'erahadows the proapect before me, More dear ig the beam of the past to my soul, Butif, through the course of the yearswhidi avait me, Some new scene of pleaeure should open to view, I wi Usay,whilewithr^tiiretiie thought shall elate me, " Ohisuch were the days which my infancy knew." Oh t did those eyes, instead of fire, With bright but mild affection shine, Though they might kindle less desire. For thou art form'd so heavenly fair, Howe'er t Jiose orbs may wildly beam.
Not e'en a zephyr wanders through the grove, Whilst I return, to view my Margaret's tombi And scatter flowers on the dust I love. That clay, where once such animation beani'd; The King of Terrors seized her as his prey. Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear, Yet fresh the memory of that beauteous face; Stni they call forth my warm affection's tear, Still in my heart retain their wonted place. (') =, Coo^lc TO E — -.(') Let Folly smile, to view the names Of thee and me in friendship tnined; Yet Virtue will have greater claims To love, than rank with vice combined.