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A THOUSAND LINES.
My heart presents her gift; in turn, of thee
I ask a little time, an idle hour, Kindly to spend with these my thoughts and me, i
Wooing the fragrance of the Muses' bower : Not without name or note, yet nameless now As one devoid of fame and skill and
power, Bearing no charge upon mine argent shield, A candidate unknown with vizored brow,
Full of young hopes I dare the tented field ! Not so this is no time for measuring swords ;
Thou art no craven though thy spirit yield, For yonder are fair looks and friendly words :
Choose a more peaceful image :-here, reveal'd Shines a small sample of my golden hoards.