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"By fortune favor'd, clear in fame, I once ambitious was; And friends I had who fann'd the flame, And gave my youth applause. "But now my weakness all accuse, Yet vain their taunts on me; Friends, fortune, fame itself I'd lose, To gain one smile from thee. "And only thou should'st not despise My weakness or my woe; If I am mad in others' eyes, 'Tis thou hast made me so.
Beneath whose mantle pale, Fann'd by the breathing gale, We shield us from the fervid mid-day rage, Thither, while the murmuring throng Of wild bees hum their drowsy song." "Louis, what are you cutting out of that bit of wood?" said Catharine, the very next day after the first ideas of the shanty had been started. "Hollowing out a canoe." "Out of that piece of stick?" said Catharine, laughing.
He scorn'd the sky of azure blue, He scorn'd whate'er could mirth bespeak; He chid the beam that drank the dew, And chid the gale that fann'd his glowing cheek. Unpaid the season's wanton lay, For still he sigh'd, and said, it was not May. "Ah, why should the glittering stream Reflect thus delusive the scene? Ah, why does a rosy-ting'd beam Thus vainly enamel the green?
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