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Yet fee, how all around 'em wait

The minifters of human fate,

And black Misfortune's baleful train!

Ah, fhow them where in ambush stand,
To feize their prey, the murderous band!
Ah, tell them they are men!

These shall the fury paffions tear,

The vultures of the mind,

Difdainful anger, pallid fear,

And fhame that fkulks behind;

Or pining Love fhall wafte their youth,

Or Jealoufy, with rankling tooth,
That inly gnaws the fecret heart;

And Envy wan, and faded Care,
Grim-vifag'd comfortless defpair,

And Sorrow's piercing dart.

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Ambition this fhall tempt to rife,
Then whirl the wretch from high,
To bitter Scorn a facrifice,

And grinning infamy.

The ftings of Falfehood those fhall try,
And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye,
That mocks the tear it forc'd to flow;

And keen Remorse with blood defil'd,

And moody Madness laughing wild
Amid fevereft woe.

Lo, in the Vale of Years beneath,

A grifly troop are seen,

The painful family of Death,

More hideous than their queen :

*And Madness laughing in his ireful mood.
Dryden's Fable of Palamon and Arcite.

This racks the joints, this fires the veins,

That every labouring finew strains,

Those in the deeper vitals rage:

Lo, Poverty, to fill the band,

That numbs the foul with icy hand,

And flow-confuming Age.

To each his fuff'rings: all are men,

Condemn'd alike to groan;

The tender for another's pain;

Th' unfeeling for his own.

Yet, ah! why fhould they know their fate!

Since forrow never comes too late,

And happiness too swiftly flies.

Thought would destroy their paradise.

No more where ignorance is blifs,

'Tis folly to be wife.

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LONG STORY.

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