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1766–1823

The Victory.

Robert Bloomfield

‘ We brav'd Life's storm together; while that Drone, ‘ Your poor old Uncle, WALTER, liv'd alone. ‘ He died the other day: when round his bed ‘ No tender soothing tear Affection shed —

‘ Affection!‘ twas a plant he never knew;— ‘ Why should he feast on fruits he never grew?’ WALTER caught fire: nor was he charm'd alone With conscious Truth's firm elevated tone;

JANE from her seat sprang forward, half afraid, Attesting with a blush what Goody said. Her Lover took a more decided part:— ( O!‘ twas the very Chord that touch'd his heart,) —

Alive to the best feelings man can prize, A Bridegroom's transport sparkled in his eyes; Love, conquering power, with unrestricted range Silenc'd the arguments of Time and Change;

And led his vot'ry on, and bade him view, And prize the light-wing'd moments as they flew:

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The Victory. · Robert Bloomfield · Poetry Cove