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 A baby beat its dying mother: I had starv'd the one and was starving the other!

Who bade you do't?

The same! the same! Letters four do form his name. He let me loose, and cried, Halloo! To him alone the praise is due.

Sisters! I from Ireland came! Hedge and corn-fields all on flame, I triumph'd o'er the setting Sun! And all the while the work was done, On as I strode with my huge strides, I flung back my head and I held my sides, It was so rare a piece of fun To see the swelter'd cattle run With uncouth gallop through the night, Scared by the red and noisy light!