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[page 1, column 5, continued:]
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[[. . . .]] Again, "But the grandest
and sweetest of all is the following," which we quote, with his own
[[John Neal's]] italics.
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ROMANCE, who
loves to
nod
and sing,
With drowsy head and folded wing,
Among the green-leaves, as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been — a most familiar bird —
Taught me my alphabet to say —
To lisp my very earliest word,
While in the wild-wood I did lie,
A child — with a most knowing eye.
Of late, eternal Condor years
So shake the very Heavens on high
With tumult, as they thunder by,
I scarcely have had time for cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky!
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings —
That little hour, with lyre and rhyme,
To while away (forbidden things!
)
My heart would feel to be a crime,
Unless it trembled with the strings. |
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In
closing this review, Mr. Neal makes this remarkable prophecy: -- "Our
author, if he be just to his peculiar gift, (for it is a gifet here,)
will be distinguished among the most distinguished."
[[. . . .]]
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