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Show 316 APPENDIX Do not your sympathetic hearts accord "Tis he! 'tis he !-that demi-god Wh Avon's flow'ry margin trod While sportive fancy round him flew Where nature led him by the hand g SR To own the bosom's Lord Instructe him in all she knew And gave him absolute comman "T'is he !-tis he The god of our idolatry II To him the song, the edifice we raise He merits all our wonder, all our praise Yet €'ve impatient joy break fort I sounds that lift the soul from earth An to our spell-boun minds impar Some faint idea of his magic ar [.et awful silence still the air I'rom the dark cloud, the hidden lich Bursts tenfold bright Prepare ! prepare ! prepare No // ifl |