...grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that T were cold, As I, when this sweet day is gone, Which...Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger, though enjoy'd, like joy in memory yet. CHARLES WOLFE. 1791-1823. THE KUKKl. OF SIR JOHN MOORE. NOT a drum...

...in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this...one Whom men love not, — and yet regret, Unlike thus day, which, when the sun Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy...

...brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were eold, As I when this sweet day is gone, Whieh my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insults with this...men love not, — and yet regret, Unlike this day, whieh, when the sun Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory...

...the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. " Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this...Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger, though unenjoyed, like joy in memory yet." The consequence of this intellectual supremacy is to lessen the...

...monotony. 1 A line мен» to have been lost at this place, probably by an oversight of the transcriber. Oh ! were I by your bounty fed! Nay, gentle lady,...orphan boy has pride. Lady, you weep ! — haï — «un Shall on its stainless glory set, Will linger, though enjoyed, Uke joy in memory yet Lines to...

...in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the eea Ireathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this...is gone. Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insulte with this untimely moan : They might lament — for I am one Whom men love not, — and yet...

...in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I, when this...which, when the sun Shall on its stainless glory set, ill linger, though emjoy'd, like joy in memory yet. THE FUGITIVES. THE waters are flashing, The white...

...the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Ireathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony. Home might lament that I were cold, As I, when this sweet...grown old, Insults with this untimely moan; They might lament—for 1 am one Whom men love not,—and yet regret,. Unlike this day, which, when the sun Shall...

...sadness, hat of that sort of sadness, he nays: •• Some might lament that I were cold, Afl I when thifl sweet day is gone, Which my lost heart, too soon grown old, Insnlts with its nntimely moan ; They might lament, for 1 am one Whom men love not, and yet regret,...

...in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea [Breathe o'er my dying brain its lost monotony. Some might lament that I were cold, As I when this...too soon grown old, Insults with this untimely moan ; ~^fc¿ They might lament — for I am one "» Whom men love not, — and yet regjgj, . Unlike this...