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THE LUTE.
I heard it, at the evening's close,
Upon my native shore;
It was a favourite song with those
Whom I shall see no more.
How many worldly thoughts and cares
Have melted at the strain!
‘Tis fraught with early hopes and prayers—
Oh, sing that song again!
 Drawn by H. Liverseege Engraved by S. Sangster
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