TEXAS ST,\TE LI llHARY
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Dear melodious bnrd sing on Forever sweet as Syren's song, That makes old ocean's waves rejoice, And dance the enchanting ,·oice. Continue still those songs to raise, That Little tuned in youthfnl days; Haunt again the eastern bower, And sip the sweets of every flow'r, Then from your old scholastic nook, Prny giYe us on more Lalla Rookb. Obsequious to the rolling day •.\nother year has passed away, Forenr passed, foreYer flown Like Hohson's ghost not to return.- Dear reader did vou enr sec •.\ little book of .A B C, For children made, by Mr. :\lurry ! Then if you'r not in too great hurry, I beg of thee to stop and look To the tenth chapter of that book. And pictured there, i think you'll find, ..\ <'realure of a curious kind. With grizly beard and piebald head And flying pinions l1alf way spread, Whilst in his hand of mighty 1Mength He swings a S)ihe of dreadful length. Know then, this creature's name is Time, Who flies tl1e world from clime to clime And in his course of falcon Hight Sweeps boldly eYery liYing wight, Nor kindly spareg one enrthly thing, From Egypt's worm to Eastern king. He cuts down pyramids and flowers, School boy's traps. and lofty towers, It was bis hand tlmt did destroy Old Berches mills-and walls of Troy, Laid Thebes with all her gates in dust ..\nd likewise Dame Quickly's sign post. Where is now imperial Rome 1 Her palaces and piles are gone, Her liberty pole is tumbled o'er, •.\nd Pompey's 1<talne is no more. Time has ~wept the whole away Nor left a trace where once they lay.
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Where are all those heroes bold Of whom we are in l1istory told, •.\nd all the mighty legions, they Together drew for battle's fray, Xerxes' army and Hannibal's Thirsting for blood like canihals ! ~o more do they witl1 rnlour glow, For time alas! has laid them low. Such is the fate that waits us all, Each in hill nurn,v; C"cll must fall,
Ami there lie still. till that brigl1t morn \\'hen Gabriel winds his hlrge French horn, The hand tliat scrawl~ these verses o'er In some few years ~hall scrawl no more, a\nd lie whose eye~ the lines may trace
With critic sneer, or ~miling face, Shall likewise fall. as sure as U Doth follow after letter Q.
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