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THEN LET ME ROVE SOME WILD AND HEATHY scene.” – Page 64.

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Whose numbers, stealing through thy

darkening vale,
May not unseemly with its stillness suit;
As, musing slow, I hail

JAMES MERRICK.
Thy genial, loved return !

(1720 – 1769.]
For when thy folding-star arising shows
His paly circlet, at his warning lamp,

THE CHAMELEON.
The fragrant Hours, and Elves
Who slept in buds the day,

Oft has it been my lot to mark

A proud, conceited, talking spark, And many a Nymph who wreathes her with eyes that hardly served at most brows with sedge,

To guard their master 'gainst a post; And sheds the freshening dew, and, love. Yet round the world the blade has beeu, lier still,

To see whatever could be seen.
The pensive Pleasures sweet, Returning from his finished tour,
Prepare thy shadowy car.

Grown ten times perter than before ;

Whatever word you chance to drop, Then let me rove some wild and heathy The travelled fool your month will stop:

“Sir, if my judgment you 'll allow – Or find some ruin midst its creary dells, I've seen – and sure I ought to know."

Whose walls more awful nod So hegs you 'd pay a due submission,
By thy religious gleams,

And acquiesce in his decision.

scene;

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