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“Ah! what, unheedful have we done! “What demons here in death delight?

“What fiends that curse the social sun? “What furies of infernal night?

“See, see, my peaceful shepherds bleed! “Each heart in harmony that vied, “Smote by its own melodious Reed,

“Lies cold, along my blushing side.

“Back to your urn, my waters, fly;
“Or find in earth some secret way;

“For horror dims yon conscious sky,
“And hell has issued into day.”

Through DELPH1's holy depth of shade
The sympathetic sorrows ran;

While in his dim and mournful glade
The genius of her groves began:


“In vain CEPHISUs sighs to save
“The swain that loves his watry mead,

“And weeps to see his reddening wave,
“And mourns for his perverted Reed:

“In vain my violated groves
“Must I with equal grief bewail,
“While desolation sternly roves,

“And bids the sanguine hand assail.

“God of the genial stream, behold “My laurel shades of leaves so bare!

“Those leaves no poet's brows enfold, “Nor bind Apollo's golden hair.

“Like thy fair offspring, misapplied,
“Far other purpose they supply;

“The murderer's burning cheek to hide,
“And on his frownful temples die.

“Yet deem not these of PLUto's race, “Whom wounded NATURE sues in vain;

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As DEE, whose current free from stain,
Glides fair o'er MERIon ETH's plain,
By mountains forced his way to steer
Along the lake of PIMBLE MERE,

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