Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power.
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ere, as I take my solitary rounds Amidst thy tangling walks and ruin'd grounds, And, many a year elapsed, return to view Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. {015} In all my wanderings round this world of care,
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