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A NIGHT-PIECE ".
'Tis night: and storms the forest shake ;
Here sounds an oak ;-there spreads a plane;
A ruin! 'Twas of old the seat
* See the Sir Bards, of which I conceive that the Night-piece was the
Where sprightly music swelled the sound,
Unhappy man ! how short his date,
Go, on the stone inscribe thy name,
A tomb its dreary honour shows!
Now peeping from the cloudy pole,
Here, hoar tradition tells, repose
A YOUNG LADY.
When half the nation round Almira sighs,
The muse disclaimed, and all the powers of song,
Grant then I sung, what honour could I pay,
Charms after charms in fair succession rise,
Permit me then, since useless are my lays,