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more, shall we be | hold 7 | 7 that | generous | loyalty | 7 to | rank and | sex, 7 | | 7 that proul sub | mission, | | 7. that | dignified obedience, | 7 that subordination of the | heart, 7 | | 7 which kept a | live, 7 | éven in | servitude it | self, 7 | 7 the | spirit | 7 of an ex | alted | freedom. | | | 7 The unbought | grace of life, 7 | 7 the | cheap de | fence of | nations, | | 7 the | nurse of | manly | sentiment | 7 and heroic | enterprise | 7 is | gone! 7 | | 7 It is gone, 77 that | sensibility of | principle, | | 7 that chastity of honor, | | 7 which felt a stain 77 like a | wound, 7 | which inspired 7 | courage | 7 whilst it | mitigated ferocity, 7 which en | nobled | 7 what | ever it | touched; 7 | | 7 and | under | which, 7 | vice it | self 7 | lost 7 | half its | evil, | 7 by | losing | all its grossness.

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CANDOUR.

POPE'S ESSAY ON CRITICISM.

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7 Be thou the | first 7 | true 7 | merit | 7 to be | friend. 7| |

His 7 praise is | lost 7 | 7 who | stays 7 | 7 till | all commend. 7 |

Short is the date a | las, 7 | 7 of | modern | rhymes; 7།

| 7 And | 'tis but | just 7 | 7 to | let them | live be I

[ times. 7 | | |

7

No longer now that | golden age appears,

7།

7 When | patriach | wits 77 sur | vived 7 | 7 a | thousand years; 7 |

Now 7 length of | fame 7 | 7 (our | second | life) 7 | 7 is lost, 7 |

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7 And bare 7 | three 7 | score 7 | 7 is | all even | that can boast; 7 |

7 Our sons 77 their | father's | failing | language

| see: 7| |

7 And | such as | Chaucer | is 7 | | 7 shall | Dryden

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So 77 when the | faithful | pencil | 7 has de | sign

'd, 7 |

Some 7 | bright i | dea 7 | 7 of the | master's | mind,

7

Where a new | world 7 | leaps 7 | out 7 | at his com mand, 7

7 And | ready | nature | waits 7 | upon his | hand; 7 |

When the ripe 7 | colours | soften | 7 and u | nite, 7།

7 And sweetly | melt 7 | into just | shade and | light, 7 |

7 When | mellowing | years 7 | 7 their | full per | fection | give, 7 |

7 And | each 7 | bold 7 | figure || just begins to | live, 7 |

7 The treacherous | colours | 7 the fair | art be tray, 7

7 And | all the | bright cre | ation | fades away! 7

1 1 1

7 Un | happy | wit, 7 | | like 7 | most mis | taken | things, 7 |

A tones not | 7 for that | envy | 7 which it | brings. 7|| |

7 In | youth alone, 7 | 7 its | empty | praise 7 | 7 we. boast, 7 |

7 But soon 77 the | short-lived | vanity is lost: 7 |

7 Like | some 7| fair 7 | flower | 7 the | early | spring supplies 7 |

7 That gaily | blooms, 7

blooming dies. 7 | |

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7 but even in |

7 If wit so much from | ignorance | 7 under | go, 7 │

| Ah 7 | let not | learning | too 7 | 7 commence

its foe! 71 1
I

7 Of | old, 7 | those met re | wards 7 | who could ex

| cel, 7 |

7 And | such were | prais'd 7 | who but endeavour'd | well: 7 |

7 Tho' | triumphs | were to generals | only | due, 7 |

Crowns were re | serv'd 7 | 7 to | grace the | soldiers

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Now, they who | reach Par | nassus' | lofty | crown, 7.

7 Employ their pains to spurn some others

down; 7

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7 And | while 7 | self 7 | love 7 | 7 each | jealous | writer rules, 7 |

7 Contending wits 77 become 7|7 the { sport of fools. 7 | | |

7 But | still 7|7 the worst 7 | 7 with | most re | gret commend; 7 |

| 7 For | each 7 | ill 7 | author 7 | 7 is as | bad a | friend. 7| | │

To what base 7 | ends 7 | and by what | abject | ways, 7

71

7 Are | mortals | urg'd through | sacred | lust of│ praise! 7 |

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Ah 7 | ne'er so dire a | thirst of | glory | boast, 7 | Nor in the critic 7 | | let the | man be | lost. 7 |

Good 7 | nature | 7 and | good 7 | sense 7 | 7 must | ever | join; 7 |

7 To | err is | human; | |7 to for | give, 7 | 7 di | vine. 7 | | |

THE CHEVALIER'S LAMENT.

BURNS.

7 The small birds | 7 re | joice in the green leaves

returning,

7 The | murmuring | streamlet | winds 7 | clear 7 | 7 thro' the vale: 7| |

7 The | hawthorn-trees | | blow in the dews of the

| morning,

And wild scattered cowslips 7 be deck the sweet dale. 71

7 But what can give | pleasure, 7 or | what can

seem | fair, 7 |

7 While the lingering | moments | 7 are | number'd by care? 7 |

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No 7 flowers gaily | springing | 7 nor | birds 7 | sweetly | singing, |

7 Can | soothe 7 | 7 the | sad 7 | bosom | 7 of | joyless despair. 7| | |

7 The | deed that I | dared 7 | 7 could it | merit their | malice? |

7 A | king and a | father | 7 to | place on his | throne? 7 |

7 His right 77 are these hills 77 and his | right | 7 are these | vallies, |

7 Where the wild 7 | beasts 7 | find 7 | shelter, | 7 but I can find | none. 7 | | |

7 But | 'tis not | my 7 | sufferings | thus 7 | wretched | 7 forlorn! 7|

7 My brave 7 gallant | friends, 7 | 7 'tis | your 7 | ruin I | mourn;

Your 7 deeds 7 | proved 7 | so 7 | Toyal | 7 in | hot bloody trial,

7 Alas! 77 can I make you no sweeter re turn! 7 | | |

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