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Where wisdom we surprise with shame-dyed lip, While Phoebus' rays she boldly drinks, Where men, like thievish children, nectar sip, And from the spheres e'en Plato sinks To ye to ye, O lonely sister-band, Daughters of destiny, ascend, When o'er the lyre all-gently sweeps my hand, These strains, where bliss and sadness blend.
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