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Show 3 %7 APPENDI No bounty past provokes my praise No future prospects prompt my lays From real grief they flow I catch th' alarm from Britain's fears My sorrows fall with Britain's tears And join a nation's woe See, as you pass the crowded street nnnnn Despondence clouds each face you meet All their lost friend deplore You read in ev'ry pensive eye You hear in ev''ry broken sigh Tha Pelha is no more If thus each Briton is alarm'd Whom but his distant influence warm'd What grief their breast must rend Who, in his private virtue's bless'd By nature's dearest ties possess' The husband, father, friend A Wha |