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spoken to her in my life. She died about a month since.'

CLIV. The battle of Hohenlinden was fought on December 3rd, 1800.

CLVIII. From Maid Marian.

CLIX. From The Misfortunes of Elphin.

CLX. From Crotchet Castle.

CLXI. From Crotchet Castle.

CLXII. From Gryll Grange.

CLXIII. Written by Lord Byron in 1815, on returning from a ball-room, where he had seen Mrs. Wilmot Horton, in mourning, with numerous spangles on her dress.

CLXVIII. These lines were written for the Irish air Gramachree, but Wolfe denied that 'he had any real incident in view or had witnessed any immediate occurrence which might have prompted them.'

CLXIX. At Corunna, Jan. 16th, 1809.


From Death's Jest-Book, or The Fool's


CLXXXV. From The Bride's Tragedy.

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CCURST be love, and they that trust his trains
Ah Ben
Ah Chloris! that I now could sit

Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh

Ah, my dear angry Lord

A ho! A ho!

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Ah! were she pitiful as she is fair

A little saint best fits a little shrine

All ye woods, and trees, and bowers

Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers

As I in hoary winter's night

As it fell upon a day

Ask me no more where Jove bestows.


Ask not the cause why sullen Spring.

A slumber did my spirit seal

A sunny shaft did I behold

As virtuous men pass mildly away

Away, delights, go seek some other dwelling

Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon
A weary lot is thine, fair maid

Before my face the picture hangs
Behold her single in the field
Beyond the sea, beyond the sea.
Bid me to live, and I will live
Blow, blow, thou winter wind

Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear

Bright be the place of thy soul


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