LINES UPON THE REV. MR. C 'S IMPROMPTU COMPOSITIONS OF SOME OF BOWLES'S SONNETS.

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No sweeter verse did e'er inspire
A kindred Muse with all its fire;
Nor sweeter strains could Music lend,
To sooth the sorrows of her friend.

Associate Genius bids them flow
With sounds that give a charm to woe;
We weep as tho' it were our own,
As if our hearts were play'd upon.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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