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No more thy strains shall charm our listening ear ; 
But we for thee no longer ought repine 
Since God commands thee from our converse here 
To celebrate His praise in strains divine. 
Dear blessed saint ! regard with pitying eye 
The heartfelt sorrows of thy weeping friend 
Teach him, like thee to live,—like thee to die 
Then share with thee those joys which ne’er shall end. 
A week later, 16th September, there appeared some more 
lines :—* 
ON THE DEATH OF THE LATE MIss M. LINLEY. 
Arcadian nymphs and college swains 
Your rustic mirth give o’er 
And in soft plaintive dying strains 
Maria's loss deplore. 
Oh! she was gentle as the dove, 
Mild as the opening spring, 
Replete with innocence and love 
But fate hath clipt her wing. 
The nightingale will drop a tear 
His mistress to bewail 
And cease to charm the ravish’d ear 
At news of the sad tale. 
Oh, no! he envied her sweet note 
And feels a conscious pride 
He yet will swell his little throat 
And grieve not that she died. 
Soft hallelujahs will inspire 
Her true seraphic lays 
She’s mingled with the heavenly choir 
To chant her Maker's praise. 
There is one other poem of similar intention which may be 
* Bath Chronicle, p. 3, col. 2. 
