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been written with a feeble and unwilling pen. For many years I had a warmth of fancy, which gilded even my darkest afflictions. The cold chilling waters of never-ceasing grief have at length extinguished it. I have nothing to guide me but the faintest glimmerings of the mental fire which I formerly cherished.
On the Advantages to be derived as well from the Contrast as from the Union of the Colours of Emagination with the
Scenes of real Life.
As the sun doth oft exbale
In my former days of bliss,
G. WITHER'S SHEPHERD'S HUNTING.
To separate ourselves entirely from the pleasures and the pains of reality, is perhaps not more desir