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SOmqFFS. 323 xxlx. ON THE ])PATH 017 'THE PRINCESS CHARLOttE. W?.sP not for her, whose spirit pure is flown Where the lost fruits of happy F, den grow, Who, on t?fis feverish dream of joy and woe, Now with an Angel's pitying eye looks' down r' Snatoh'd from the thousand tyrant-ills, that frown Dark on each chequer'd !or of life below, And ever most their baleful gi? bestow' Within the glittering circle of a crown. But, oh, for him, whose sun of perfect bliss, Bright as it rose, in efivious clouds grew dim ;' Whose nectar'd cup of sparkling happiness ' ! Was dash'd away, when manfling to the b. rim, Seek not the generous sorrow to repress; . Shed PitT's truest, tenderest tear for him !
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