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For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonourd 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.

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