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Mary, adieu! I must away:

While thou art blest I'll not repine;

But near thee I can never stay;

My heart would soon again be thine.


I deemed that time, I deemed that pride

Had quenched at length my boyish flame; Nor knew, till seated by thy side,

My heart in all, save hope, the same.


Yet was I calm: I knew the time

My breast would thrill before thy took ;

But now to tremble were a crime

We met, and not a nerve was shook.

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From the Portuguese.

In moments to delight devoted,

- My life!" with tend'rest tone, you cry; Dear words! on which my heart had doted,

If youth could neither fade nor die. To death even hours like these must roll,

Ah! then repeat those accents never; Or change “my life!” into “

Which, like my love, exists for ever.

my soul!”

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Impromptu, in Reply to a Friend.

When from the heart where Sorrow sits,

Her dusky shadow mounts too high, And o'er the changing aspect flits,

And clouds the brow, or fills the eye;

Heed not that gloom, which soon shall sink:

My thoughts their dungeon know too well; Back to my breast the wanderers shrink,

And droop within their silent cell.


Address, spoken at the opening of Drury-lane Thea

tre, Saturday, October 10th, 1812.

In one dread night our city saw, and sighed,
Bowed to the dust, the Drama's tower of pride ;

In one short hour beheld the blazing fane,

Apollo sink, and Shakspeare cease to reign.

Ye who beheld, (oh! sight admired and mourned, Whose radiance mocked the ruin it adorned!) Through clouds of fire, the massy fragments riven, Like Israel's pillar, chase the night from heaven;

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