The history of miss Temple, by a young lady (A.Rogers).

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Page 118 - How oft a day, that fair and mild appears, Grows dark with fate, and mars the toil of years ! Not far remov'd, yet hid from distant eyes, Low in her secret grot, a Naiad lies.
Page 142 - To chafe our thoughtleflhefs, fear, pride, and guilt. Our dying friends come o'er us like a cloud, To damp our brainlefs ardors ; and abate That glare of life, which often blinds the wife.
Page 160 - Pleasure's bright beam, is feeble in delight: Delight intenfe is taken by rebound; Reverberated pleafures fire the breaft. Celeftial happinefs, whene'er me ftoops To vifit earth, one fhrine the goddefs finds, And one alone, to make her fweet amends For abfent Heav'n—the bofom of a Friend ; Where heart meets heart, reciprocally foft, Each other's pillow to repofe divine.

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