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* Though giving “ valley” the rising slide may be considered a departure from rule, I feel persuaded the euphony is not diminished by it.--Ed.

tuous s’ea of mou'ntains. Let me now conduct you down to e the va'lley, and conclude with one circumstance mor'e ; which 3 is', th'at/ when I walk by still mo'on-light (at which time the distant water-falls are heard in all the variety of sou'nd/ among these encha'nting-dales), it opens such scenes of d'elicate beauty, rep'ose, and sole'mnity, as exceed a'll descri ption...

Concluding tone.

CELADON AND AMELIA.

Thomson.

— Young Celadon
And his Ame'lia/ were a matchless pair';
With equal virtue formed and equal grace ;
The same', distinguished by their sex | alone' :
Hers' the mild lus'tre of the blooming morn',
And his/ the ra'diance of the risen day'.
They lov'ed; but, such their guileless pasʼsion was,
As in the dawn of time informed the heart
Of in'nocence and undissembling truth'.
'Twas frie'ndship, heightened by the mutual wish':
The enchanting hope', and sympathetic glow',
Beamed from the mutual eye'. Devoting all
To love', each/ was to each' a 'arer self';
Supremely hap'py/ in the awakened pow'er
Of giving joy'. Alo'ne, amid the shades,
(Still in harmonious in'tercourse) they lived
The rural day', and talked the flowing heart,
Or sigh'ed/ and look’edun'utterable things'.
So passed their life', (a cle’ar, un'ited stream,
By care unru'ffled); till, in evil hour,
The tempest ca'ught them on the tender walk',
Heedless how far', and whe`re its mazes stray'ed,
While', with each other blest', creative love
Still bade eternal E'den/ smile around'.
Presaging instant fate', her bo‘som heav'ed
Unwon'ted sig'hs ; a'nd, stealing oft a look
Towards the big gloom', on Celadon/ her eye
Fell tear'ful, wetting her disordered cheek':
In vain assuring love', and confidence
In He’aven, repr'essed her fea'r ; it grew', and shook

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* A simile or comparison should be pronounced in a lower tone of voice-something in the way of a parenthesis.

† This mighty master of “The Passions”-this prince of dramatic poets—"whom no age or nation can pretend to equal”-died at Stratfordupon-Avon (which had the honour of giving birth to the immortal bard) on the 23rd of April, 1616, aged 52.

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