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[From The Library.]
BOOKS.
They soothe the grieved, the stubborn they chastise,
Fools they admonish, and confirm the wise;
BUT what strange art, what magic | Their aid they yield to all; they never
can dispose
Up from thy sweet mouth,-up to I never was worthy of you, Douglas;
Not half worthy the like of you: Now all men beside seem to me like shadows,
I love you, Douglas, tender and true.