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Ne'er talk of Wisdom's gloomy schools;

Give me the sage who's able
To draw his moral thoughts and rules

From the sunshine of the table ;
Who learns how lightly, fleetly pass

This world and all that's in it,
From the bumper that but crowns his glass,

And is gone'again next minute.

II.
The diamond sleeps within the mine,

The pearl beneath the water,
While Truth, more precious, dwells in wine,

The grape's own rosy daughter!
And none can prize her charms like him,

Oh! none like him obtain her,
Who thus can, like Leander, swim

Through sparkling floods to gain her!

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HERE SLEEPS THE BARD!

Highland Air.

Here sleeps the Bard who knew so well
All the sweet windings of Apollo's shell,
Whether its music roll'd like torrents near,
Or died, like distant streamlets, on the ear!
Sleep-sleep-alike unheeded now;
Sleep, mute Bard! unheeded now.
The storm and zephyr sweep thy lifeless brow ;-
That storm, whose rush is like thy martial lay;
That breeze which, like thy love-song, dies away!

END OF VOLUME IV.

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