CXXII.

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Vision unwelcome, of familiar things,
Why force, I cried, your fantasies on my mind?
Your aspect shadows gloom with fouler wings;
Could I some refuge from your varying find!
I look’d, and, eminent, o’er that ghastly round,
And, quite diffusive, through its sad precincts,
Uncertain shapings based on steadfast ground,
The light of myriad suns made dark those tints:
Transfixed, I stand, inhaling joy and wonder;
Then nearer gaze, that effluence divine
Stream’d ever on, and burst the pores asunder,
Whose ignorance scorn’d such treasure for their mine:
When uncongenial homes rebuked that power,
Its lightning flight bless’d some more grateful bower.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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