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For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If 'chance, by lonely Contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,
Haply, some hoary-headed swain may say:
"Oft have we seen him, at the peep of dawn,
Brushing, with hasty steps, the dews away,
To meet the Sun upon the upland lawn.