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Ran. Not out of Penryn, Sir; but to the Is to discharge thee, Randal, from my hard, strand,

[storm Unprofitable service. To hear what news from Falmouth since the Ran. Heaven forbid ! Of wind last night.

Shall I forsake you in your worst necessity ? 0. Wil. It was a dreadful one.

Believe me, Sir, my honest soul abaurs
Ran. Some found it so. A noble ship from The barb'rous thought.

0. Wil. What! canst thou feed on air? Entring in the harbour, run upon a rock, I have not left wherewith to purchase food And there was lost.

For one ineal more. 0. Wil. What'came of those on board her ? Ran. Rather than leave you thus, Ran. Some few are sav'd; but much the I'll beg ny bread, and live on others' bounty greater part,

While I serve you. 'Tis thought, are perish’d.

0. Wil. Down, down, my swelling heart, 0. Wil. They are past the fear

Or burst in silence: 'tis thy cruel fate Of future tempests, or a wreck on shore; Insults thee by his kindress. He is innocent Those who escap'd are still expos’d to both. Of all the pain it gives thee. Go thy ways, Where's your mistress?

I will no more supr ress thy youthful hopes' Ran. I saw her pass the High-street, to- of rising in the world, wards the Minster.

Run. "Tis true; I'ın young, 0. Wil. She's gone to visit Charlotte-Şhe And never tried my fortune, or my genius; doth well.

Which may perhaps find out some happy In the soft bosom of that gentle maid, [race

nieans, There dwells more goodness than the rigid | As yet unthought of, to supply your wants, Of moral pedants e'er believ'd or taught.

0. Wil. Thou tortur'st me I hate all obliWith what amazing constancy and truth

gations Doth she sustain the absence of our son,

Which I can ne'er return. And who art thou, Whom more than life she loves! How shun That I should stoop to take 'em from thy hand ? for him,

[great ; Care for thyself, but take no thought for me; Whom we shall ne'er see more, the rich and I will not want thee--trouble ine no more. Who own her charms, and sigh to make her Ran. Be not offended, Sir, and I will go happy.

I ne'er repin'd at your commands before; Since our misfortunes, we have found no friend, But, heaven's my witness, I obey you now None who regarded our distress, but her; With strong reluctance, and a heavy heart. And she, by what I have obsery'd of late, Farewell, my worthy master! [Guing. Is tir'd, or exhausted-curs'd condition ! 0. Wil. Farewell-StayTo live a burden to one only friend,

As thou art yet a stranger to the world, And blast her youth with our contagious woe! Of which, alas! I've had too much experience, Who that had reason, soul, or sense, would I should, methinks, before we part, bestow bear it

A little counsel on thee. Dry thy eyes-A moment longer!—Then, this honest wretch!- If thou weep'st thus, I shall proceed no far. I must dismiss him—Why should I detain

ther. A grateful, gen’rous youth to perish with me? Dost thou aspire to greatness, or to wealth, His service may procure him bread elsewhere, Quit books and the unprofitable search Though I have none to give him. Pr’ythee, of wisdom there, and study human kind: Randal,

No science will avail thee without that; How long hast thou been with me?

But, that obtain'd, thou reed'st not any ot! er. Ran. Fifteen years.

This will instruct thee to conceal thy views, I was a very child when first you took me, And wear the face of probity and honour, To wait upon your son, my dear young master! ”Till thou hast gain'd thy end; which must be I oft have wish'd, I'd gone to India with him; Though you, desponding, give him o'er for lost. Thy own advantace, at that man's expense I am to blame.-This talk revives your sorrow Who shall be weak enough to think thee For his absence.

honest. 0. Wil. That cannot be reviv'd,

Ran. You mock me, sure. Which neyer died.

0. Wil. I never was more serious. Ran. The whole of my intent

Ran. Why should you counsel what you Was to confess your bounty, that supplied

scorn'd to practise ? The loss of both my parents: I was long

0, Wil. Because that foolish scorn has been The object of your charitable care. 0. Wil. No more of that.— Thou'st serv'd me I've been an idiot, but would have thee wiser, longer since

And treat mankind, as they would treat thee, Without reward; so that account is balanc'd,

Randal; Or, rather, I'm thy debtor. I remember, As they deserve, and I've been treated by 'em. When poverty began to show her face

Thou'st seen, by me, and those who now deWithin these walls, and all my other servants,

spise me, Like pamper'd vermin from a falling house, How men of fortune fall, and beggars rise; Retreated with the plunder they had gain'd, Shun my example; treasure up my precepts; And left me too indulgent and remiss

The world's before thee-be a knave and pros. For such ungrateful wretches, to be crush'd

per. Beneath the ruin they had help'd to make, What, art thou dumb ? [After a long pause. That you, more good than wise, refus'u to Ran. Amazement ties my tongue. leave me.

Where are your former principles ? Ran. Nay, I beseech you, Sir!

0. W'il. No matter; 0. Wil. With my distress,

Suppose I have renounc'd'em: I have passions, In perfect contradiction to the world,

And love thee still; therefore would have thee Thy love, respect, and diligence, increas'd;

think, Now all the recompense within my power,

The world is all a scene of deep deceit,


my ruin.

And he who deals with mankind on the square, | And will preserve my own. But to prevent
Is his own bubble, and undoes himself. Exit. All future, vain, officious importunity,
Ran. Is this the man, I thought so wise and Know, thou incessant foe of ny repose,

Whether he sleeps, secure from mortal cares,
What, teach and counsel me to be a villain! In the deep bosom of the boist'rous main,
Sure grief has made him frantic, or some fiend Or, toss'd with tempests, still endures its rage;
Assum'd his shape-I shall suspect my senses. No second choice shall violate my vows;
High-minded he was ever, and improvident; High heaven, which heard thein, and abhors
But pitiful and generous to a fault:

the perjur'd, Pleasure he lov'd, but honour was his idol. Can witness, they were made without reserve; 0, fatal change! O, horrid transformation! Never to be retracted, ne'er dissoly'd So a majestic temple, sunk to ruin,

By accidents or absence, time or death. Becomes the loathsome shelter and abode Mar. And did your vows oblige you to supOr lurking serpents, toads, and beasts of prey; His haughty parents, to your utter ruin? (port And scaly dragons hiss, and lions roar, Well may you weep to think on what you've Where wisdom taught, and music charm'd be

done, fore.

[Exit. Char. I weep to think that I can do no more SCENE II.-A Parlour in CHARLOTTE's House. The hoary, helpless, miserable pair !

For their support. What will become of 'em! Enter CHARLOTTE and MARIA.

Mar. What I can't praise, you force me to Char. What terror and amazement must they And inourn for you, as you lament for them.

admire, Who die by shipwreck?

[feel Your patience, constancy, and resignation, Mar. 'Tis a dreadful thought!

Merit a better fate.
Char. Ay; is it not, Maria ? to descend,
Living and conscious, to that watry tomb?

Char. So pride would tell me,
Alas! had we no sorrows of our own,

And vain self-love, but I believe them not: The frequent instances of others' woe

And, if by wanting pleasure I have gain'd Must give a gen'rous mind a world of pain.

Humility, I'm richer for my loss. But you forget you promis'd me to sing.

Mar. You have the heavenly art, still to imThough cheerfulness and I have long heen Your mind by all events. But here comes one,

prove strangers, Harmonious sounds are still delightful to me.

Whose pride seems to increase with her misThere's sure no passion in the human soul,

Her faded dress, unfashionably fine, (fortunes. But finds its food in music, I would hear

As ill conceals her poverty, as that [heart. The song compos'd by that unhappy maid,

Strain'd complaisance ler haughty, swelling Whose faithful lover scap'd a thousand perils Though perishing with want, so' far from From rocks, and sands, and the devouring She ne'er receives a favour uncompellid, And after all, being arriy'd at home, (deep; | And while she ruins, scorns to be oblig'd: Passing a narrow brook, was drowned there, And perish'd in her sight.

Let me depart, I know she loves me not.

[Exit Maria. Mar, Cease, cease, heart-easing tears; Adieu, you flatt'ring fears,

Enter AGNES.
Which seren long tedious years
Taught me to bear.

Char. This visit's kind.
Tears are for lighter woes ;

Agn. Few else would think it so:
Fear no such danger knows,

Those who would once have thought them-
As fate remorseless shows,

selves much honour'd Endless despair.

By the least favour, though 'twere but a look, Dear cause of all my pain,

I could have shown them, now refuse to see On the wide stormy main, 'Tis misery enough to be reduc'd

(me. Thou wast preserv'd in vain,

To the low level of the cominon herd,
Though still ador'd;

Who, born to begg'ry, envy all above them;
Hadst thou died there unseen,

But 'tis the curse of curses, to endure
My wounded eyes had been

The insolent contempt of those we scorn.
Sav'd from the direst scene

Chan By scorning, we provoke them to
Maid e'er deplor'd.


And thus offend, and suffer in our turns: [Charlotte finds a letter. We must have patience. Char. What's this ?-A letter, superscrib'd Agn. No, I scorn them yet. to ine!

But there's no end of sufl'ring: who can say None could convey it here but you, Maria: Their sorrows are complete? My wretched Ungen'rous, cruel maid! to use me thus!

husband, To join with flattring men to break my peace, Tir’d with our woes, and hopeless of relief, And persecute me to the last retreat!

Grows sick of life. Mar. Why should it break your peace, to And, urg'd by indignation and despair, hear the sighs

Would plunge into eternity at once, Of honourable love? This letter is

By foul self-inurder. Char. No matter whence-return it back un- Char. Gracious heaven, support hiin! open'd.

Agn. His fix'd love for me,

[fate, I have no love, no charms, but for my Wilmot, whom he would fain persuade to share his Nor would have any.

Aud take the saine, uncertain, dreadful course, Mar. Alas! Wilmot's dead;

Alone withholds his hand. Or, living, dead to you.

Char. And may it ever! Char. I'll not despair;

[honour Ayn. I've kuown with him the two extremes Patience shall cherish hope, nor wrong his

of life, By unjust suspicion. I know his truth, The highest happiness, and deepest woe,

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With all the sharp and bitter aggravations Where you had hid my love, my life, my Wil-
Of such a vast transition. Such a fall

mot! In the decline of life! I have as quick,

Agn. Unless you mcan t'affront me, spare As exquisite, a sense of pain as he,

the rest.
And would do any thing, but die, to end it; "Tis just as likely Wilmot should return,
But there my courage fails. Death is the As we become your foes.

Char. Far be such rudeness
That fate can bring, and cuts off ev'ry hope. From Charlotte's thoughts : but when I heard
Char. We must not choose, but strive to

you name
bear our lot

Self-murder, it reviv'd the frightful image Without reproach or guilt: but by one act

Of such a dreadful scene.
Of desperation, we may overthrow

Agn. You will persist!--
The merit we've been raising all our days; Char. Excuse me; I have done. Being a
And lose our whole reward. And now, me-


I thought, indeed, it could not give offence. Now more than ever, we have cause to fear, Agn. You could not think so, had you thought And be upon our guard. The hand of beaven

at all;
Spreads clouds on clouds o'er our benighted But I take nothing ill from thee. Adieu ;

I've tarried longer than I first intended,
And, wrapp'd in darkness, doubles our distress. And my poor husband mourns the while alone.
I had, the night last past, repeated twice,

(Erit. A strange and awful dream: I would not yield Char. She's gone abruptly, and I fear disTo fearful superstition, nor despise

pleas’d. The admonition of a friendly power

The least appearance of advice or caution That wish'd my good.

Sets her impatient temper in a farne. Agn. I've certain plagues enough,

When grief, that well might humble, swells Without the help of dreams to make me

our pride, wretched.

And pride increasing, aggravates our grief, Char. I would not stake my happiness or The tempest must prevail 'till we are lost. On their uncertain credit, nor on aught [duty Heaven grant a fairer issue to her sorrows! But reason, and the known decrees of heaven.

Yet dreams have sometimes shown events to

SCENE III.-The Town and Port of Penryn.
And may excite to vigilance and care;
My vision may be such, and sent to warn us,

Enter Young Wilmot and Eustace, in Indian

habits. (Now we are tried by multiplied afflictions,) To mark each motion of our swelling hearts, Wil. Welcome, my friend ! to Penryn: here Lest we attempt to extricate ourselves,

we're safe, And seek deliverance by forbidden ways; Eust. Then we're deliver'd twice ; first from To keep our hope and innocence entire,

[less, "Till we're dismiss'd to join the happy dead, And then from savage men, who, more remorseOr heaven relieves us bere.

Prey on shipwreck'd wretches, and spoil and Agn. Well, to your dream.

murder those Char. Methought, I sat, in a dark winter's Whom fatal tempests and devouring waves, night,

In all their fury, spar'd. On the wide summit of a barren mountain ;

Wil. It is a scandal, The sharp bleak winds pierc'd through my Though malice must acquit the better sort, shiv’ring frame,

Irains, The rude unpolish'd people here in Cornwall And storms of hail, and sleet, and driving Have long lain under, and with too much Beat with impetuous fury on my head,

justice: Drench'd my chill'd limbs, and pour'd a deluge For 'tis an evil, grown almost invet’rate, round me.

And asks a bold and skilful hand to cure.
On one hand, ever gentle Patience sate,

Eust. Your treasure's safe, I hope.
On whose calm bosom I reclin'd my head; Wil. 'Tis here, thank heaven!
And on the other, silent Contemplation. Being in jewels, when I saw our danger,
At length, to my unclos’d and watchful eyes, I hid it in my bosom.
That long had roll'd in darkness, dawn ap-

Eust. I observ'd you ;


And wonder how you could coinmand your
And I beheld a man, an utter stranger, In such a time of terror and confusion.
But of a graceful and exalted mien, [me. Wil. My thoughts were then at homeo
Who press'd with eager transport to embrace

England ? England !
I shunn'd his arms. But at some words he Thou seat of plenty, liberty, and health,

With transport I behold thy verdant fields,
Which I have now forgot, 1 turn'd again, Thy lofty mountains rich with useful ore,
But he was gone. And oh! transporting sight! Thy numerous herds, thy flocks, and winding
Your son, my dearest Wilmot, fill'd his place.

streams :
Agn. If I regarded dreams, I should expect After a long and tedious absence, Eustace!
Some fair event from yours.

With what delight we breathe our native air, Char. But what's to come,

And tread the genial soil that bore us first!
Though more obscure, is terrible indeed. "Tis said, the world is ev'ry wise man's country;
Methought, we pa soon, and when I Yet, after having view'd its various nations,
sought him,

[there)- I'm weak enough, still to prefer my own,
You and his father-/ yes, you both were To all I've seen beside.—You smile, my friend.
Strove to conceal him from me: I pursued you And think, perhaps, 'tis instinct more than
Both with my cries, and callid on heaven and


Why, be it so. Instinct preceded reason, To judge my wrongs, and force you to reveal E'en in the wisest men, and may sometimes

the sea,



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Be much the better guide. But, be it either, 1- Wil. That's a trifle,
I must confess, that even death itself

Not worth my thoughts.
Appear'd to me with twice its native horrors, Eust. The hardships you've endur'd,
When apprehended in a foreign land.

And your long stay beneath the burning zone,
Death is, no doubt, in ev'ry place the same: Where one eternal sultry summer reigns,
Yet nature casts a look towards home, and Have marr'd the native hue of your complex-

most, Who have it in their power, choose to expire Methinks, you look more like a sun-burnt InWhere they first drew their breath.

Than a Briton.

[dian, Eust. Believe me, Wilmot,

Wil. Well, 'tis no matter, Eustace! Your grave reflections were not what I smild I hope my mind's not altered for the worse;

[land, And for my outside—But inform me, friend, I own the truth. That we're return'd to Eng- When I may hope to see you. Affords me all the pleasure you can feel.

Eust. When you please : Yet I must think a warmer passion moves you; You'll find me at the inn, Thinking of that, I smild.

Wil. When I have learn'd my doom, expect Wil. 0 Eustace! Eustace!

me there.
Thou know'st, for I've confess'd to thee, I love; / 'Till then, farewell!
But, having never seen the charming maid, Eust. Farewell! success attend you !
Thou canst not know the fierceness of 'my

[Exeunt. flame. My hopes and fears, like the tempestuous seas

That we have past, now mount me to the skies,
Now hurl me down from that stupendous SCENE 1.-CHARLOTTE's House.

CHARLOTTE enters, in thought ; and, soon after, And drive me to the centre. Did you know

How much depends on this important hour,
You would not be surpris'd to see me thus.

Serv. Madam, a stranger in a foreign habit
The sinking fortune of our ancient house [try, Desires to see you.
Compell’d me, young, to leave my native coun-

Char. In a foreign habitMy weeping parents, and my lovely Charlotte ; 'Tis strange, and unexpected-But admit him. Who rui's, and must for ever rule, my fate.

[Exit SERVANT, 0! should my Charlotte, doubtful of my Who can this stranger be ? I know no foreigner. Or in despair ever to see me more, - [truth, Have given herself to some more happy lo

WILMOT enters. ver!

-Nor any man like this. Distraction's in the thought!-Or should my Wil. Ten thousand joys! parents,

(Going to embrace her. Griev'd for my absence and oppress'd with Char. Sir, you are too bold-forbear, and let want,

me know Have sunk beneath their burden, and expir'd, What bus'ness brought you here; or leave While I, too late, was flying to relieve them;

the place. The end of all my long and weary travels,

Wil. Perfidious maid! am I forgot or The hope, that made success itself a blessing,

scorn'd? Being defeated, and for ever lost,

Char. Can I forget a man I never knew? What were the riches of the world to me? Wil. My fears are true; some other has her Eust. The wretch who fears all that is pos

heart: sible,

She's lost-My fatal absence has undone me. Must suffer more than he who feels the worst

(Aside. A man can feel, who lives exempt from fear. O! could thy Wilmot have forgot thee, CharA woman may be false, and friends are mor

lotte ! tal;

Char. Ha! Wilmot! say! what do your And yet your aged parents may be living,

words import? And your fair mistress constant.

O gentle stranger! ease my swelling heart, Wi. True, they may;

What dost thou know of Wilmot? I doubt, but I despair not--No, my friend! Wil. This I know.

[spire My hopes are strong, and lively as my fears; When all the winds of heaven seem'd to conThey tell me, Charlotte is as true as fair, Against the stormy main, and dreadful peals That we shall meet never to part again; Of rattling thunder deafen'd ev'ry ear, That I shall see my parents, kiss the tears And drown'd th' affrighten'd mariners' loud From their pale hollow cheeks, cheer their sad


[flames hearts,

When livid lightning spread its sulphurous And drive that gaping phantom, meagre want, Through all the dark horizon, and disclos'd For ever from their board; crown all their days The raging seas incens’d to his destruction; To come with peace, with pleasure, and abun- When the good ship in which he was emdance;


(surge, Receive their 'fond embraces and their bless- Broke, and, o'erwhelm’d by the impetuous And be a blessing to them.

[ings, Sunk to the oozy bottom of the deep, Eust. "T'is our weakness :

And left him struggling with the warring Blind to events, we reason in the dark,

waves; And fondly apprehend what none e'er found, In that dread moment, in the jaws of death, Or ever shall, pleasure and pain unmix’d; When his strength fail'd, and every hope forAnd flatter and torment ourselves, by turns,

sook him, With what shall never be.

And his last breath press'd towards his tremWU. I'll go this instant

bling lips,

[moan, To seek my Charlotte, and explore my fate. Tlie neighbouring rocks, that echo'd to his Eust. What! in that foreign habit?

Return’d no sound articulate, but-Charlotte. Char. The fatal tempest, whose description | Why art thou silent? canst thou doubt me strikes

still? The hearer with astonishment, is ceas'd ; Char. No, Wilmot! no; I'm blind with too And Wilmot is at rest. The fiercer storm

much light: Of swelling passion that o'erwhelms the soul, O'ercome with wonder, and oppress'd with And rages worse than the mad foaming seas

joy; In which he perish’d, ne'er shall vex him more. This vast profusion of extreme delight, Wil. Thou seem'st to think he's dead; en Rising at once, and bursting from despair, joy that thought;

Defies the aid of words, and mocks description ; Persuade yourself, that what you wish is true; But for one sorrow, one sad scene of anguish, And triumph in your falsehood— Yes, he's That checks the swelling torrent of my joys, dead;

[waves, I could not bear the transport. You were his fate. The cruel winds and Wil. Let me know it: That cast him pale and breathless on the shore, Give

me my portion of thy sorrow, Charlotte ! Spar'd him for greater woes—To know his Let me partake thy grief, or bear it for thee. Charlotte,

Char. Alas! my Wilmot ! these sad tears Forgetting all her vows to him and heaven,

are thine; Had cast him from her thoughts--then, then They flow for thy misfortunes. I am pierc'd he died;

(ders, With all the agonies of strong compassion, But never must have rest. E'en now he wan- With all the bitter anguish you must feel, A sad, repining, discontented ghost,

When you shall hear your parents-
The unsubstantial shadow of himself,

Wil. Are no more.
And pours his plaintive groans in thy deaf Char. You apprehend me wrong.
And stalks, unseen, before thee. [ears, Wil. Perhaps I do.
Char. "Tís enough-

Perhaps you mean to say, the greedy grave
Detested falsehood now has done its worst. Was satisfied with one, and one is left
And art thou dead ? —And would'st thou To bless my longing eyes.-But which, my
die, my Wilmot!

Charlotte ? For one thou thought'st unjust?- Thou soul of Char. Aflict yourself no more with groundtruth !


less fears : What must be done ?—Which way shall I ex- Your parents both are living. Their distress, Unutterable woe? or how convince

The poverty to which they are reduc'd, Thy dear departed spirit of the love,

In spite of my weak aid, was what I mourn'd; Th' eternal love, and never-failing faith, And that in helpless age, to them whose youth Of thy much injur'd, lost, despairing Char- Was crown’d with full prosperity, I fear, lotte ?

Is worse, much worse, than death. Wil. Be still, my flutt'ring heart; hope not Wil. My joy's complete ! too soon :

My parents living, and possessid of thee!. Perhaps I dream, and this is all illusion. From this bless'd hour, the happiest of my life,

Char. If as some teach, the spirit after death, I'll date my rest. My anxious hopes and fears, Free from the bounds and ties of sordid earth, My weary travels, and my dangers past, Can trace us to our most conceal'd retreat, Are now rewarded all : now I rejoice See all we act, and read our very thoughts; In iny success, and count my riches gain. To thee, () Wilmot! kneeling, I appeal : For know, my soul's best treasure ! I have If e'er I swerv'd in action, word, or thought,

wealth Or ever wish'd to taste a joy on earth Enough to glut e'en avarice itself: That centred not in thee, since last we parted,- No more shall cruel want, or proud contempt, May we ne'er meet again, but thy loud wrongs Oppress the sinking spirits, or insult So close the ear of mercy to my cries,

The hoary heads of those, who gave me being. That I may never see those bright abodes Char. "Tis now, O riches, I conceive your Where truth and virtue only have admission,

worth; And thou inhabit'st now !

You are not base, nor can you be superfluous, Wil. Assist me, Heaven!

But when misplac'd in base and sordid hands. Preserve my reason, memory, and sense! Fly, iy, my Wilmot! leave thy happy CharO moderate my fierce tumultuous joys,

lotte ! Or their excess will drive me to distraction. Thy filial piety, the sighs and tears

Charlotte! Charlotte ! lovely, virtuous maid! Of thy lamenting parents, call thee hence. Can thy firm mind, in spite of time and absence, Wii. I have a friend, the partner of my voyRemain unshaken, and support its truth;

age, And yet thy frailer memory retain

Who, in the storm last night, was shipwreck'd No image, no idea, of thy sover ?

with me. Why dost thou gaze so wildly ? look on ine : Cnar. Shipwreck'd last night! ( you imTurn thy dear eyes this way; observe me well.

mortal powers !

(preserv’d? Have scorching climates, time, and this strange What have you suffer'd? How were you habit,

,[mot, Wil. Let that, and all my other strange esSo chang'd and so disguis'd thy faithful Wil

capes That nothing in my voice, my face, or mien, And perilous adventures, be the theme Remains, to tell my Charlotte I am he ? Of many a happy winter night to come. [After viewing him some time, she approaches My present purpose was t’intreat my angel,

weeping, and gives him her hand; and To know this friend, this other better Wilmot; then, turning towards him, sinks upon And come with him this evening to my father's : his bosom.

I'll send him to thee. Why dost thou weep? why dost thou tremble Char. I consent with pleasure. thus?

Wil. Heavens! what a night! How shall I Why doth thy panting heart and cautious touch

bear my joy? Speak thee but half convinc'd? whence are My parents, yours, my friends, all will be mine. thy fears?

If such the early hopes, the vernal bloom,

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