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EDWARD GRAY.

SWEET Emma Moreland of yonder town
Met me walking on yonder way,

"And have you lost your heart?" she said;
"And are you married yet, Edward Gray?"

Sweet Emma Moreland spoke to me:
Bitterly weeping I turned away:
"Sweet Emma Moreland, love no more
Can touch the heart of Edward Gray.

"Ellen Adair she loved me well,

Against her father's and mother's will: To-day I sat for an hour and wept,

By Ellen's grave, on the windy hill.

"Shy she was, and I thought her cold;

Thought her proud, and fled over the sea;

Filled I was with folly and spite,

When Ellen Adair was dying for me.

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Cruel, cruel were the words I said!
Cruelly came they back to-day:
You're too slight and fickle,' I said,

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"There I put my face in the grass Whispered, 'Listen to my despair: I repent me of all I did :

Speak a little, Ellen Adair!'

"Then I took a pencil, and wrote On a mossy stone, as I lay,

'Here lies the body of Ellen Adair;

And here the heart of Edward Gray!'

"Love may come, and love may go, And fly, like a bird, from tree to tree :

But I will love no more, no more,

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Till Ellen Adair come back to me.

Bitterly wept I over the stone:

Bitterly weeping I turned away:

There lies the body of Ellen Adair!

And there the heart of Edward Gray!"

WILL WATERPROOF'S LYRICAL MONOLOGUE.

MADE AT THE COCK.

O PLUMP head-waiter at The Cock,

VOL. II.

To which I most resort,

How

goes the time? 'Tis five o'clock. Go fetch a pint of port:

But let it not be such as that

You set before chance-comers,

But such whose father-grape grew fat

On Lusitanian summers.

No vain libation to the Muse,
But may she still be kind,

And whisper lovely words, and use
Her influence on the mind.

To make me write my random rhymes,

Ere they be half-forgotten;

Nor add and alter, many times,

Till all be ripe and rotten.

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I pledge her, and she comes and dips
Her laurel in the wine,

And lays it thrice upon my lips,

These favored lips of mine;

Until the charm have power to make
New life-blood warm the bosom,

And barren commonplaces break

To full and kindly blossom.

I pledge her silent at the board;
Her gradual fingers steal

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And touch upon the master-chord

Of all I felt and feel.

Old wishes, ghosts of broken plans,

And phantom hopes assemble;

And that child's heart within the man's Begins to move and tremble. 3

Through many an hour of summer suns,
By many pleasant ways,
Like Hezekiah's, backward runs

The shadow of my days:

I kiss the lips I once have kissed;

The gas-light wavers dimmer; And softly, through a vinous mist,

My college friendships glimmer.

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I grow in worth, and wit, and sense,
Unboding critic-pen,

Or that eternal want of pence,
Which vexes public men,

Who hold their hands to all, and cry
For that which all deny them-
Who sweep the crossings, wet or dry,
And all the world go by them.

Ah yet, though all the world forsake,
Though fortune clip my wings,
I will not cramp my heart, nor take
Half-views of men and things.
Let Whig and Tory stir their blood;

There must be stormy weather;
But for some true result of good

All parties work together.

Let there be thistles, there are grapes ;

If old things, there are new;

Ten thousand broken lights and shapes,

Yet glimpses of the true.

Let raffs be rife in prose and rhyme,

We lack not rhymes and reasons,

As on this whirligig of Time

We circle with the seasons.

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