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SAW you the Wood-nymph pass this way,
As light in her step as a spirit of air,
With cheeks all glowing, and look so gay,

While the breeze plays with her beautiful hair?

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That tempers vivacity in her fair form;

Like Dian she moves, but her lovely face
With rose-hues Dione might envy is warm.

She bounded along like the gentle fawn

Through the glade, then rapidly glided away : Thus vanish the fairies at break of dawn,

When their revels have ended beneath the moon's ray.



CIGAR, thou comfort of my life,
With joy I taste thy fragrant leaf;

It soothes me when my heart's at strife
With the world's cares; it gives relief
When at an inn in lonely hour

Blue devils rush before my sight;
Its sweet intoxicating power

Turns devils into angels bright :
The cold that chills my feeble frame,
As damps arise, it soon dispels;
In thee composure, or what name
Does better suit the feeling, dwells.

A self-complacency that creeps
O'er all the senses, thou alone
Canst give; till every passion sleeps,
And thought assumes a milder tone.

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At every whiff, a gentle heat

Like that of Love within me glows:
Through thee my friends are doubly sweet,
I almost love my few of foes.—
If such thy virtues be, Cigar,

When other consolations fail,
If thou canst drive from man afar
Those sorrows that his heart assail;
If thou canst make the world appear
As in the glass of Claude Lorraine
Of loveliest hues-why then, 'tis clear

Thou better art than-Wright's Champagne!


"The morn is up, by heavens! a lovely morn,
With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom,
Laughing away the clouds."-BYRON.

ANOTHER Morn will rise

With splendour on its wings,
But this for ever flies

Away! While beauty flings

A thousand colours o'er

The earth, they reappear:

Yet thou wilt never more

Our hearts exulting cheer.

Sweet morn, on balmy gales

Where dost thou speed thy flight?

To worlds where Love prevails

And wantons with Delight;

Where ever-blooming Youth,

With Pleasure at his side,
And Innocence and Truth
In golden courts abide?

Then, gentle morn, awhile

Thy odours let me breathe: Heaven seems above to smile, 'Tis Paradise beneath.

Flowers freshly gemm'd with dew In tears entreat thy stay;

And birds of every hue

Sing "Why so soon away?"

The massy woods, whose deep
Green is illumed with gold,
Would fain the colours keep
Thy radiance doth unfold;

Thy rose-hues, lovely morn!
Yet linger on the lake;
Then why as soon as born

Wilt thou the world forsake?

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