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I read merely to understand their meaning, and they well repaid

my labours. Their melancholy is soothing, and their joy

elevating, to a degree I never experienced in studying the

authors of any other country. When you read their writings, life

appears to consist in a warm sun and a garden of roses,-in the

smiles and frowns of a fair enemy, and the fire that consumes

your own heart. How different from the manly and heroical poetry

of Greece and Rome!