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Yediftant spires, ye antique towers,

That crown the wa'try glade, Where grateful science still adores Her Henry's holy shade *;

* King Henry VI, founder of the College.

And ye, that from the stately brow
Of WINDSOR's heights th' expanse below
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
Whose turf, whose Shade, whose flowers

Wanders the hoary Thạmes along
His filver-winding way:

Ah happy hills, ah pleasing shade, Ah fields belovd in vain, Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain ! I feel the gales that from ye blow, A momentary bliss bestow ; As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to footh, And, * redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring.

Say, Father Thames, for thou hast feen Full many a sprightly race

* And bees their honey redolent of spring.

Dryden's Fable on the Pythag. System

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