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A ROMANCE.

BY ALLAN CUNNINGHAM,

AUTHOR OF

“SIR MARMADUKE MAXWELL,” “TRADITIONAL TALES,” &c.

Success, the mark no mortal wit,
Or surest hand, can always hit :
For whatsoe'er we perpetrate,
We do but row, we're steer'd by Fate,
Which in success oft disinherits,
For spurious causes, noblest merits.

BUTLER,

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III..

EDINBURGH:
PUBLISHED BY OLIVER & BOYD;
LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, & GREEN,

LONDON.

1826.

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TO

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

CHARLES LONG, LORD FARNBOROUGH,

THIS ROMANCE

IS MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED

BY

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

PAUL JONES.

CHAPTER I.

Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded lilies.

BURNS.

To the kingdom of France, cloudless suns, odorous winds, flowers ever blooming, birds ever singing, grapes dropping wine, and a perpetual holiday of light and life, love and gladness, are by popular belief ascribed; while to my native island the same authority imputes a variable climate, shrouded in constant fogs, drenched in perpetual rains, with grapes yielding vinegar instead of wine, and to which the four winds of heaven, in place of wafting health and fragrance, come with human misery on their wings—depression of mind and the spirit of self-destruction. From the island of snow and fogs, the prize frigate of Paul Jones was now fast retiring. As the shores of England grew dim behind

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