Front Cover
The editor, 1903 - 120 pages

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Page 9 - O my beloved rocks, that rise To awe the earth and brave the skies, From some aspiring mountain's crown, How dearly do I love, Giddy with pleasure, to look down ; And, from the vales, to view the noble heights above...
Page 5 - To the exact discoverer. Yet more and more he smiles upon The happy revolution. Why should we then suspect or fear The influences of a year, So smiles upon us the first morn, And speaks us good...
Page 109 - We would not now wish with us here; In this estate, I say, it is Some comfort to us to suppose, That in a better clime than this You our dear friend have more repose; And some delight to me the while, Though nature now does weep in rain, To think that I have seen her smile, And haply may I do again.
Page 32 - And warn night's sov'reign to withdraw. The morning curtains now are drawn, And now appears the blushing dawn ; Aurora has her roses shed, To strew the way Sol's steeds must tread. Xanthus and ^Ethon harnessed are To roll away the burning car, And, snorting flame, impatient bear The dressing of the charioteer.
Page 10 - Here in this despised recess, Would I, maugre winter's cold And the summer's worst excess, Try to live out to sixty full years old ; And, all the while, Without an envious eye On any thriving under Fortune's smile, Contented live, and then contented die.
Page 9 - With thine, much purer, to compare; The rapid Garonne and the winding Seine Are both too mean, Beloved Dove, with thee To vie priority; Nay, Tame and Isis, when conjoined, submit, And lay their trophies at thy silver feet.
Page 4 - Tells us, the day himself s not far ; And see where, breaking from the night, He gilds the western hills with light. With him old Janus doth appear, Peeping into the future year. With such a look as seems to say The prospect is not good that way.
Page 12 - We then shall have a day or two, Perhaps a week, wherein to try, What the best master's hand can do With the most deadly killing fly; A day without too bright a beam, A warm, but not a scorching sun, A southern gale to curl the stream, And (master) half our work is done.
Page 8 - Dear Solitude, the soul's best friend, That man acquainted with himself dost make, And all his Maker's wonders to intend. With thee I here converse at will, And would be -glad to do so still, For it is thou alone that keep'st the soul awake.
Page 7 - FAREWELL, thou busy world! and may We never meet again : Here I can eat, and sleep, and pray, And do more good in one short day, Than he, who his whole age out-wears Upon the most conspicuous theatres, Where nought but vanity and vice appears.

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