{"newspaper_name": "The Southern journal.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 256, "word_count": 48, "ccnet_language_score": [0.7835000157356262], "ccnet_perplexity": [1727.5999755859375], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
Oh!poor crush'd, bleeding heart, for thee
There is no bliss on earth,
No star TO light thy destiny,


Nor love, nor smile, nor mrih;
4 thick and heavy cloud is spread


Upon thy once fair sky!
While all thy hopes, now sear'd and dead,
Within thy bosom lie.