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FRAGMENT*.

not this grove A scene of pensive loveliness? The gleam Of Dian's gentle ray falls o'er the trees, And piercing thro' the gloom, seems like the smile That pity gives to cheer the brow of grief. The turf has caught a silvery hue of light, Broken by shadows, where the branching oak Rears its dark shade, or where the aspen waves Its trembling leaves; the breeze is murmuring by, Fraught with sweet sighs of flowers, and the song