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PAUL CLIFFORD.
CHAPTER VIII.
Lose I not
With him what fortune could in life allot?
Lose I not hope, life's cordial?
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In fact, the lessons he from prudence took,
Were written in his mind as in a book.
There what to do he read, and what to shun,
And all commanded was with promptness done:
He seemed without a passion to proceed,
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Yet some believed those passions only slept!
Crabbe.
**** **** Relics of love and life's enchanted spring!
A. Watts, on burning a Packet of Letters.
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Many and sad and deep
Were the thoughts folded in thy silent breast!
Thou too couldst watch and weep!
Mrs. Hemans.
While Sir William Brandon was pursuing his ambitious schemes, and, notwithstanding Lucy's firm and steady refusal of Lord Mauleverer, was
