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TO

THE LOVERS OF SHAKSPEARE,

THESE VOLUMES,

INCLUDING A NARRATIVE WHOSE

PRIMARY OBJECT HAS BEEN

TO UNFOLD ITS AUTHOR'S CONCEPTION OF THE

MORAL AND DOMESTIC FEELINGS OF

THE BARD OF AVON,

ARE INSCRIBED,

BY ONE, WHOSE ADMIRATION OF

THE PRIVATE CHARACTER OF THE POET,

FAINTLY AS IT HAS BEEN SHADOWED OUT BY

TRADITION,

IS SCARCELY TO BE EXCEEDED

BY THAT WHICH HE ENTERTAINS FOR THE

DEPTH AND UNIVERSALITY OF HIS

GENIUS AND TALENTS.

No. I.

Now, while the fervid ray shoots o'er the skies,
How grateful feels the margin of the flood!
How grateful now to trace the devious course
Of some wild pastoral stream, that changes oft
Its varied lapse; and ever as it winds,
Enchantment follows, and new beauties rise.
O Nature! lovely Nature! thou canst give
Delight thyself a thousand ways, and lend
To every object charms! With thee, even books
A higher relish gain. The poet's lay
Grows sweeter in the shade of wavy woods,
Or lulling lapse of crystal stream beside;
Dim umbrage lends to philosophic lore
Severer thought; and Meditation leads
Her pupil Wisdom to the green resort
Of solemn silence, her inspiring school.

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BIDLAKE.

THERE is no part of a SUMMER'S DAY in the country more delightful, perhaps, to the con

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