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Perhaps, in this neglected spot, is laid Some heart, once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway’d,
Or wak'd to ecstasy the living lyre.
But Knowledge, to their eyes, her ample page,
Rich with the spoils of Time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill Penury repress’d their noble rage,
And froze the genial current of the soul.