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Belgium, with the important intelligence that Sprats
ta e antal
NOT BY THOMAS MOORE.
With the wind and the rain my fraillattice was groaning, When Cupid I heard at my cabin-door moaning,
And plaintive, and sweet were his speeches: “Oh pray let me in, hear the winds how they blow, My wings are benumb'd, wet my arrow and bow,
And I have not got any breeches."