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I disdain e'en to shrink the I feel the sharp las! yet my breast bleeds for her I adore: While around me the unfeeling billows will das I sigh! and still tug at the oar.

Hoy fortune deceives: I had pleasure in tow, the sort where she dwelt we'd in view; But the wisk'd nuptial morn was o'ercloude with woe, and dear Anna, I hurried from you. Our shallop was boarded, and I borne away, to behold my dear Anna no more! But despair wastes my spirits, my form feels cay He sigh'd ! and expir'd at the oar.

May le More

As I f y'd o'er the common on Cork's rugged be der While the dew-drops of Mord the ſweet primroſe a ray'd I ſaw a poer female, whoſe mental diſorder, Her quick glancing eye, and wild aſpect betray'd! On the ſward the recliu'd, by the green fern ſurrounded, At her ſide ſpeek!'d dailies and wild flowers abouned. To its utmoſt receſſes her heart had been wounded, Her fight were unceaſing-twas Mary le More,

Her charms by the keep blaſt of ſorrow were faded, Yet the loſt tinge of beauty ſtill play'd in her cheek Her treſſes a wreath of pale primroſes braided,