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The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe

with his letters and journals, and his life, by his son. In eight volumes

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261

Now was the game destroy'd, and not a hare
Escaped at least the danger of the snare;
Woods of their feather'd beauty were bereft,
The beauteous victims of the silent theft;
The well-known shops received a large supply,
That they who could not kill at least might buy.