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Os could my mind, unfolded in my page, Enlighten climes and mould a future age; There as it glowed, with noblest frenzy fraught, Dispense the treasures of exalted thought; To Virtue wake the pulses of the heart,

And bid the tear of emulation start !

Oh could it still, thro' each succeeding year,

My life, my manners, and my name endear; • And, when the poet sleeps in silent dust,

Still hold communion with the wise and just !

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