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Parents, no more indulge the falling tear: Let Faith to heav'n's refulgent domes repair, There see your infant like a seraph glow: What charms celestial in his numbers flow Melodious, while the soul-enchanting strain Dwells on his tongue, and fills th' etherial plain? Enough forever cease your murm'ring breath;
Voici, cria Simon, jetant au milieu du brouhaha les beaux vers de Byron: Fill the goblet again! for I never before Felt the glow which now gladdens my heart to its core; Let us drink! Who would not, etc. A qui le tour? interrogea le Mangeux-d'Hommes quand Simon se fut rassis. Oui,
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