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OF PLANT S.

BOOK III. OF FLOWERS.

TRANSLATED BY C. CLEVE.

Flera.

Now Mufe! if ever, now look brifk and gay, The Spring's at hand; blithe looks like that difplay:

Ufe all the fchemes and colours now of speech,
Ule all the flow'rs that poetry enrich;
Its glories all, its blooming beauties, bring,
As may refemble the returning Spring:
Let the fame mufic through thy verfe refound,
As in the woods and fhady groves is found:
Let ev'ry line fuch fragrant praise exhale,
As rifes up from fome fweet-finelling vale:
Let lights and fhades, as in the woods, appear,
And fhew in painted verfe the feafon of the year.
Come then away, for the first welcome morn
Of the fpruce month of May begins to dawn.
This day, fo tells the poet's facred page,
Bright Chloris die in nuptial bands engage;
This very day the knot was ty'd, and thence
The lovely maid a goddess did commence :
The figns of joy did ev'ry where appear,
On earth, in heav'n, throughout the fea and air;
No wand'ring cloud was feen in all the fky,
And if there were, 'twas of a curious dye.
'The air ferene, not an ungentle blast
Ruffled the waters with its rude embrace;
The wind that was, breath'd odours all around,
And only fann'd the ftreams, and only kifs'd the
ground.

Of unknown Flow'rs now fuch a num'rous birth
Appear'd, as ever aftonifh'd mother-Earth.
The Lily grew 'midft barren Heath and Sedge,
And the Rofe blush'd on each unprickly hedge;
The purple Violet and the Daffodil,
The places now of angry nettles fill.
This great and joyful day, on which the knew
What 'twas to be a wife and goddess too,
The grateful Flora yearly did exprefs
In fhews, religious pomp, and gaudiness,
Long as the thriv'd in Rome, and reign'd among
The other gods, a vast and num'rous throng;

But when the facred tribe was forc'd from Rome,
Among the reft an exile fhe became,
Stripp'd of her plays, and of her fane bereft,
Nought of the grandeur of a goddefs left :
Since then no more ador'd on earth by men,
But forc'd o'er flowers to prefide and reign,
The best fhe can fhe ftill keeps up the day,
Not as of old, when blefs'd with ftore fhe lay;
When with a lavish hand her bounties flew ;
She 'as not the heart and means to do it now;
But in a way fitting her humble ftate
She always did, and still does celebrate :
And now that the the better may attend
The Flow'ry empire under her command,
To all the world, at times, fhe does refort,
Now in this part, now that, fhe keeps her court;
And fo the feafons of the year require,
For here 'tis fpring, perhaps 'tis autumn there.
With eafe fhe flies to the remoteft fhores,
And vifits in the way a world of Flow'rs:
In Zephyr's painted car fhe cuts the air,
Pleas'd with the way, her spouse the charioteer.
It was the year, (thrice blefs'd that beauteous
Year!)

Which mighty Charles's facred name did bear;
A golden year the heavens brought about
In high proceffion with a joyful shout;
A year that barr'd up Janus' brazen gates,
That brought home Peace, and laid our monftrous
heats:

A greater gift, bless'd Albion! thou did'st gain, It brought home godlike Charles, and all his peaceful train,

Compos'd our chaos, cover'd o'er the fears,
And clos'd the bleeding wounds of twenty years.
Nor felt the gown alone the fruits of peace,
Eut gardens, woods, and all the Flow'ry race.
This year to ev'ry thing fresh honours brought,
Nor 'midft thefe were the learned Arts forgot.
Poor cxil'd Flora, with the fylvan gods,
Came back again to their old lov'd abodes.

I faw her (through a glass my Mufe vouchfaf'd)
Plac'd on the painted bow fecurely waft;
Triumphantly the rode, and made her courfe
Towards fair Albion's long-forfaken fhores.
That the our goddefs was, to me was plain
From the gay various colours of her train:
She light, renowned Thames! upon thy fhore,
Long time belov'd, and known to her before:
'Twas here the goddess an appointment fet
For all the Flow'rs: accordingly they met ;
Those that are parch'd with heat, or pinch'd with
cold,

Or those which a more temp'rate clime does hold,
Thofe drunk with dew the fun juft rifing fees,
Or thofe, when setting, with a face like his;
All forts that Eaft and Weft can boast were there,
But not fuch Flow'rs as you fee growing here,
Poor mortal Flow'rs, obnoxious ftill to harms,
Which quickly die out of their mother's arms,
But thofe that Plato faw, Ideas nam'd,
Daughters of Jove, for heav'nly extract fam'd:
Ethereal Plants! what glories they difclofe,
What excellence the firft celeftial Rofe ;
What blush, what smell! and yet on many fcores,
The learned fay, it much refembles ours;
Only 'tis ever fresh, with long life blefs'd,
Not in your fading mortal colours drefs'd.
This Rofe the image of the heav'nly mind,
The other growing on our earth we find,
Which is the image of that image, then
No wonder it appears lefs fresh and fine.
Thefe heav'n-born fpecies of the Flow'ry race
Affembled all the wedding-morn to grace.

Phoebus do thou the pencil take, the fame With which thou gild'ft the world's great checker'd frame;

Light's pencil take; try if thou canft difplay
The various fcenes of this refplendent day :
And yet I doubt thy fkill, though all must bow
To thee as god of Plants and Poets too:
I'm fure 'tis much too hard a task for me,
Yet fome I'll touch in pafling, like the bee:
Where the whole garden can't be had, we know
A nofegay may, and that, if sweet, will do.

Now when a part of this triumphant day
In facred pompous rites had pafs'd away,
Rites which no mortal tongue can duly tell,
And which, perhaps, 'tis not lawful to reveal;
At length the fporting goddefs thought it beft
(Though fure the humour went beyond a jeft)
A pleasant fort of trial to propofe,

And from among the Plants a queen to choose
Which should prefide over the Flow'ry race,
Be a vice-goddefs, and fupply her place :
Each Plant was to appear, and make its plea,
To fee which beft deferv'd the dignity. [ftood,
The fcene arch'd o'er with wreathing branches
Which like a little hollow temple fhew'd;
The shrubs and branches darting from aloof
Their pretty fragrant fhades, compos'd the roof;
Red and white Jasmine, with the Myrtle-tree,
The favourite of the Cyprian deity;
The Golden Apple-tree with filver bud,
Both forts of Pipe-tree, with the Sea-dew flood;

There was the twining Woodbine to be feen,
And Yellow Hather, Rofes mix'd between.
Each Plant its notes and known diftinctions
brought,

With various art the gaudy scene was wrought.
Juft in the nave of this new-modell'd fane,
A throne the judging goddess did fuftain,
Rob'd in a thoufand feveral forts of leaves,
And all the colours which the garden gives,
Which join'd together trim in wondrous wife,
With their deluding figures mock'd your eyes.
A noble checker'd-work, which real feems,
And firmly set with glist'ring stones and gems,
It real feem'd, though gods fuch bodies wear
For weight, as Flow'rs upon their down may bear.
| The goddess, feated in majestic-wife,
With all the pride the wealthy Spring supplies,
Had Ariadne's crown, and fuch a veft
With which the rainbow on bright days is drefs'd;
Before her throne did the officious band
Of Hours, Days, Months, in goodly order stand:
The Hours upon foft-painted wings were born,
Painted, but fwift, alas! and quickly gone;
The Days with nimble feet advanc'd apace,
And then the Month, each with a different face;
On Cynthia's orb they tend with conftant care,
In monthly courfes whirling round her sphere.
Firft Spring, a rofy-colour'd youngster, stood,
With looks enough to bribe a judging god;
Summer appear'd, rob'd in a yellow gown,
Full ears of ripen'd corn compos'd her crown;
Then Autumn, proud of rich Pomona's store,
And Bacchus, too, treading the blufhing floor;
Poor half-ftarv'd Winter fhivering in the rear,
The Stoical and fullen part o' th' year:
Yet not by step-dame Nature wholly left
Of every grace is winter time bereft;
Some friends it has in this afflicted state,
Some Plants that faith and duty don't forget:
Some Plants the winter-feafon does fupply,
Born purely for delight and luxury,
Which brave the froft and cold, and merit claim,
Though few, indeed, and of a lower frame.
The New Year did him this peculiar grace,
And Janus favouring with his double face,
That he fhould first be heard, and have the pow'r
To draw forth all his poor and flender store.
Winter obeys, and ranks 'em, best he can,
More trusting to the worth, than number of his
Juft in the front of Winter's fcanty band, [men
Two lofty Plants, or Flow'ry giants, ftand;
Spurge-olive one, th' other a kind of Bay,
Both high, and largely spreading ev'ry way;
But did they in a milder season sprout,
Whether they e'er could pafs for Flow'rs, I doubt;
But now they do, and fuch their looks and fmell,
The place they hold they seem to merit well.
Next Wolfs'-bane, us'd in ftep-dames' poisoning
Born of the foam of Pluto's porter faid;
A baneful Plant, fpringing in craggy ground,
Thence its hard name, itself much harder found;
Brifkly its gilded creft it does difplay,
And boldly ftares i' th' face the god of Day,
Which Cerberus, its fire, durft ne'er affay.

[trade,

The Plant call'd Snowdrop, next in course ap-
pcar'd,

But trembling, by its frightful neighbour scar'd;
Yet clad in white herfelf, like fieccy fnow,
Near her bad neighbour finer fhe does fhew.
The noble Liverwort does next appear,
Without a fpeck, like the unclouded air,
A Plant of noble use and endless fame,
The liver's great preferver, thence its name;
The humble Plant confcious of inbred worth,
In winter's hardest froft and cold fhoots forth:
Let other Plants, faid fhe, for feafons wait,
For, fummer gales, or the fun's kindly heat,
She fcorns delay; naked, without a coat,
As 'twere in hafte, the noble Plant comes out.
Next the blue Primrofe, which in winter blows,
But wears the spring both in its name and clothes;
The Saffron then, and tardy Celandine;
To thefe our Lady's-feal and Sowbread join;
But these appearing out of feason, were
Bid to their homes and proper tribes repair:
There now remain'd of Winter's genuine ftore
And offspring, Bear's-foet, or the Christmas Flow'r,
The pride of Winter, which in froft can live,
And now alone for empire dar'd to ftrive:
On its black ftalk it rear'd itself, and then
With pale, but fearlefs face to plead began.

I

Hleborus Niger; or, Chriflmas Flower.'

MEAN not now my beauty to oppose
To that of Lilies or the blufhing Rofe;
Old Prætus' daughters me from that do scare,
Who once with Juno durft their face compare.
Mad with conceit, each thought herself a cow;
Juft judgment teaching all themselves to know.
My noble Plant banish'd this wild caprice,
And gave 'em back their human voice and fpeech.
Melampus by my aid foon brought relief,
And for the cure had one of 'em to wife :
And none will charge me with that madness, sure,
Or the fame folly I pretend to cure.
The goddeffes above a beauty claim,
Lafting and firm as their immortal frame,
Which time can't furrow, or difeafes wrong;
To be immortal is to be forever young.
Flow'rs' or girls' beauty is a tranfient thing;
Expect as well the whole year will be fpring.
Ye Flow'ry race! that open to the fky,
And there have feen a cloud of curious dye,
The gaudy phantom now with pride appears,
Look up again, 'tis ftraight diffolv'd in tears;
Such is the fhort-liv'd glory Flowers have,
Bending, they point ftill tow`rds their womb and

grave;

The wind and rain aim at their tender head;
Befides, the ftars their baneful influence fhed;
Like the fam'd Semele, they die away
In the embraces of the god of Day:
Expos'd to air, to heat an open prey,

Which is so hardy as to stand the threat
Of ftorms and tempefts that around her beat;
That with contending winds dare boldly strive,
Scorns cold, and under heaps of fnow can live,
To this, great goddefs! to this noble Plant
You ought the empire of the garden grant.
Kings are Jove's image; and, if that be true,
To virtue only fovereign fway is due.
Trufting to this, and not the empty name
Of beauty, I the Flow'ry empire claim :
Nor will this foft, luxurious, pamper'd race
Of Flow'rs, were things well weighed, deny me
place;

For, lo! the winter's come; what change is there,
What looks, what difmal afpect of the year!
The winds, from prifon broke, no mercy yield,
But fpoil the native glories of the field:
First on the infant-boughs they spend their rage,
And fcarcely fpare the poor trunk's rev'rend age;
Either with fwelling rains the ground below
Is drown'd, or cover'd thick in beds of fnow;
Or ftiff with froft, the ftreams, all iced o'er,
Are pent within a bank unknown before.
Each nymph complains, and ev'ry river-god
Feels on his fhoulders an unusual load;
Nature, a captive now to Froft become,
Lies fairly buried in a marble tomb.
And can you wonder then that Flow'rs fhould die,
Or, hid within their beds, the danger fly?
D'ye fee the fun, hew faint his looks, that tell
The god of Plants him:felf is not o'er-well.
Now let me fee the Violet, Tulip, Rofe,
Or any of 'em their fine face difclofe;
Ye Lilies! with your fnowy treffes, now
Come forth, this is the proper time for fnow.
Deaf to the call, none of 'em all appear,
But clofe in bed they lie, half-dead with fear;
I only in this univerfal dread

Of Nature dare exalt my fearless head:
Winter, with thoufand feveral arms prepar'd
To be my death, ftill finds me on my guard.
Great umpire then of all this harmless fray,
If you are fix'd to crown fome Plant to-day,
Let all appear and take the field, let all
Agree to give the chiefeft Plant the ball;
Yet let it be in winter, I defire;

That feafon does a hardy chief require.
If any of these tender, dainty, dames,
Deck'd with their rich perfumes and gaudy names,
Dare but at fuch a time fhew half an eye,
I'll frankly yield, and traight let fall my plea.
Not a Plant's feen, I'll warrant you; they hate
To gain a kingdom at fo dear a rate;
They fear the unequal trial to fustain ;
None dare appear but those that fill my train,
And none of these are so ambitious grown
To ftand themselves, but beg for me the crown.
Thefe num'rous hardships I can undergo;
I'll tell you now, fair Judge, what I can do,
My virtue active is, and paffive too.

Colds through their tender fibres force their way. Kings get no fame by conquering at home;

The swallow or the nightingale abhors

Not winter more than do th' whole race of Flow'rs.

If among thefe a Flow'r you can defery

(Fitter to he tranfplanted to the fky)

That from fome foreign vanquish'd land muft

come.

If equal to my triumphs names I bore,

And ev'ry vanquifh'd foe increas'd the store,

Old Rome's most haughty champion I'd defy
With me in honours, titles, names, to vie.
I act fuch wonders, I may fafely fay,
The twelve Herculean labours were mere play.
The fpreading cancer my blefs'd Plant does chase,
And new-fkins o'er the leper's monstrous face;
The ling'ring quartan fever I oblige

To draw his forces off, and raise the siege :
Swimmings i' th' head that do from vapours come,
I exercifc ftraight by my counter fume :
In ev'ry fwelling part, when dropfies reign,
I dry the fen, the standing waters drain:
The falling fickness, too, to wave the reft,
Though facred that disease by fome confefs'd.
Why in these cures thus trifle 1 my breath?
Death yields to me, the apoplectic death;
Into each part my Plant new vigour fends,
And quickly makes the foul and body friends.
Thefe are great things, you'll fay, and yet the reft
That follow must much greater be confefs'd.
I do compofe the mind's diftracted frame,
A gift the gods and I alone can claim;
Madmen and fools are caft beneath my pow'r;
What to my grandeur can the gods add more ?
Who thus can do, the world his province is,
Cæfar can't boast a larger sway than this.

She fpoke; her train with fhouts the area fill'd, Nay, Winter (if you will believe it) fmil'd.

Next the gay Spring draws out his warlike bands,

Which to the scene a grateful fhadow lends. Homer, though well the Grecian camp he paints, Would fail, I fear, in muftering up thefe Plants. Bright Spring what various nations doft thou boaft?

[die)

The Xerxes of a numerous Flow'ry hoft,
Which could (fince Flow'rs without due moisture
Like his, I fancy, drink whole rivers dry.
His Flow'ry troops made the fame ftately fhew,
Whofe painted arms a dazzling luftre threw.
Then a gay Flow'r, for fhape the Trumpet nam'd,
Blew thrice, and with a ftrenuous voice proclaim'd,
That all but candidates fhould quit the place,
First, as they went, bowing with awful grace.

And now, the pleasure of the goddess known,
The Herb call'd Ragwort pafs'd before the throne;
A bunchy ftalk, and painted bees she bore,
With fev'ral foolifh fancies on her Flow'r.
Ragwort the Satyrs and Priapus love,
Venus herself and the fair Judge approve.
Dog's-tooth pafs'd next, to Ragwort near ally'd,
A faithful friend to love, and often try'd;
Next Hyacinths, of violet-kind, proceed,
A noble, pow'rful, and a num'rous breed;
They wanted courage, though, to keep the place
Lab'ring, alas! under a late difgrace;
Of noble house themselves they did pretend,
From Ajax' blood directly to defcend;
The caute in Flora's court of chivalry
Was heard, where they fail'd to make out their
They bore no coat of arms, nor could they fhew
Thofe mournful notes faid from his blood to flow:
The next a-kin, a Flow'r which Grecks of old
From excrements of birds defcended hoid,

[plea;

Which Britain, nurse of Plants, a milder clime,
Gentilely calls the Star of Bethlehem ;
The Daify next march'd off in modeft wife,
Dreading to wait the iffue of the prize,
Tho' the Spring don't a trustier party know,
After, before, and in the fpring they grow,
Quick in the charge, and in retreating flow;
They dare not venture, though the fons of Art
The name of Binders to 'em do impart;
They cure all wounds, yet make none, which you
Is the true office of a warlike Plant. [grant
Next spotted Sanicle and Navelwort,
Tho' both have figns of blood, forfake the court;
Moonwort goes next, borne on its reddish stalk,
And after that does gentle Cranebill walk;
They all gave way; 't is natural in a Flow'r
More in its form to truft than worth and pow'r;
Nay, more than that, the Cornflag quits the field,
Tho' made fword-wife, does to the Tulip yield;
Tho', like fome tyrant, rounded with the fame,
Yet to affected empire waves all claim;
How much this Swordflow'r differs as to harm
From those which we on mortal anvils form!
Nature on this an unguent has bestow'd,
Which when our's make it iffue ftops the blood.
Next you might fee the gaudy Columbine,
Call'd fometimes Lion's-mouth, defert the scene,
Though of try'd courage and of high renown
In other things, curing difeafes known;
The Seagull Flow'r exprefs'd an equal fear,
The tigers more and prettier fpets don't bear
These beauty-fpots fhe ought to prize like gold,
Citron held her's at dearer rates of old:
The Perfian Lily, of a ruddy hue,
And next the Lily of the Vale, withdrew;
Lilies o' th' Vale fuch looks and fmell retain,
They're fit to furnish fnuff for gods and men;
Nor a plant kinder to the brain does live;
A glafs of wine does lefs refreshment give.
Next Periwinkle, or the Lady's-bow'r,
Weakly, and halting, crept along the floor;
All kinds of Crowfoot pafs'd, and bow'd their
head,

The worst ran wild, the beft in gardens bred;
Daylily next, the root by Hefiod lov'd,
Although not for the chiefeft difh approv'd;
Then came a flow'r of a far diff'ring look,
Which on it thy lov'd name, Adonis! took;
But Celandine, thy genuine offspring ftyl'd,
They tell us at the proud ufurper smil'd;
Stockgilly flow'r the year's companion is,
Which the fun scarce in all his rounds does mifs,
Officious Plant! which ev'ry month can bring,
But rather would be reckon'd to the spring;
This pafs'd along with a becoming mien,
And in her train the Wallflow'r would be feen:
The conftant Marigold next these went out,
And Lady's-flipper, fit for Flora's foot; [peep,
Then Goat's-beard, which each morn abroad does
But fhuts its Flow'r at noon, and goes to fleep;
Then Oxeye did its rolling eyeball spread,
Such as Jove's wife and fifter had, they said;
Next Viper-grafs, full of a milky juice,
Good against poifon, which curs'd ftep-dames ufe;

Then Hollowroot, cautious and full of fear,
Which neither fummer's heat nor cold can bear,
Comes after fpring, before it does retire;
Then Satin-flow'r, and Mothmullen withdraw,
Worthy a nobler title to enjoy :

The Lady's-fmock, and Lugwort, went their way,
With fev'ral more, too tedious here to fay;
With many an humble Shrub that took their leaves,
To which the garden entertainment gives;
As Honeysuckle, Rosemary, and Broom,
That Broom which does of Spanish parents come;
Both forts of Pipe-tree, neat in either dress,
White or sky-colour'd, whether please you beft;
Next the round-headed Elder-rofe, which wears
A conftellation of your little stars;

The Cherry; our's and Persian Apple add,
Proud of the various Flow'rs adorn'd its head;
Nature has iffue, eunuch-like, deny'd,

But (like them too) by a fine face supply'd :
Thefe, and a thousand more, were fain to yield,
And left the candidates to keep the field;
Each Flow'r appear'd with all its kindred, dress'd,
Each in its richest robes of gaudiest vest :
The Violet first, Spring's ufher, came in view,
From whofe fweet lips thefe pleafing accents flew,

The Violet.

THE Ram now ope the golden portal throws,
Which holds the various featons of the year,
And on his fhining fleece the Spring does bear;
Ye Mortals! with a fhout falute him as he goes.
(lö, triumph!) now, now the fpring comes on
In folemn ftate and high proceffion,

Whilft I, the beauteous Violet, ftill before him go,
And ufher in the gaudy fhew:

As it becomes the child of fuch a fire,
I'm wrapp'd in purple; the first-born of Spring
The marks of my legitimation bring,

And all the tokens of his verdant empire wear:
Clad like a princely babe, and born in state,
I all your regal titles hate,

Nor priding in my blood and mighty birth,
Unnatural Plant, defpife the lap of mother Earth.
Love's goddefs fmiles upon me just new-born,
Rejoicing at the year's return:

The fwallow is not a more certain fign
That love and warm embraces now begin.
To the lov'd babe a thousand kiffes

The goddess gives, a thousand balmy bliffes.
Befides, my purple lips

In facred nectar dips:

Hence 'tis no fooner does the Violet burst,
By the warm air to a juft ripeness nurs'd,
But from my opening, blooming head,
A thousand fragrant odours spread.
I do not only please the fell,
And the most critic tafte beguile,
Not only with my pretty dye
Impofe a cheat upon the eye;

But more for profit than for pleafure born,
I furnish out a wholefome juice,
Which the fan'd Epicurus did not fcorn,
Upon a time, when fick, to ufe.

O'er preffing and vexatious pain I fuch a filent vict'ry gain,

That though the body be the scene,
It fcarcely knows whether a fight has been.
The fever's well-known valour I invade,
Which blushes with mere rage to yield

To one that ne'er knew how to tread a field,
But only was for fights and nuptial banquets made;
It yields, but in a grumbling way,
Juit as the winds obedience pay,
When Neptune from the flood does peep,
And filences thofe troublers of the deep.
What though fome Flow'rs a greater courage know,
Or a much finer face can fhew
That does but ftill the fancy feed,
Whilft I for bus'nefs fit, in real worth exceed.
Search over all the globe, you'll find
The glory of a princely Flower
Confifts not in tyrannic power,
But in a majesty with midnefs join'd.

She fpoke, and from her balmy lips did come
A fweet perfume that fcented all the room;
The fmell fo long continued, that you'd fwear
The Violet, though you heard no found, was

there.

Quitting the ftage, the next that took her place
Were Oxlips, Pugles, with their num'rous race;
A party-colour'd cribe, of various hue,
Red, yellow, purple, pale, white, dusky, blue:
The Primrofe and the Cowflip, too, were there,
Both of 'em kin, but not fo handfome far;
Bear's-ear, fo call'd, did the whole party head,
And Yellow, claiming merit, needs would plead;
Toffing her hundred heads in flanting rate,
Each had a mouth, and could at pleasure prate.

[blocks in formation]

With fuch a fight of various pofies drefs'd?
Whereas one italk of mine

Alone a nofegay is, alone can make thee fine.
A lovely, harmless monster, I

Gorgon's many heads outvie;

Others, as fingle ftars, may glory beam;

Take me, for I a conilellation am :

Let thofe who fubjects want pursue the flow'ry A flow'ry nation I alone;

Nor did kind nature thus in vain

So many heads to me aflign;

I for a man's head, life's chiefeft feat,

Am fet apart and wholly confecrate :
The mind's imperial tow'r, the brain,

[crown,

(A poor apartment for fo great a queen) [fhines, The light-houfe where man's reafon ftands and Maugre the malice of contending winds,

I guard the facred place, repel the rout,
And keep the everlafting fire from going out.

Go now, and mock me with this monftrous name
Which the late barbarous age did coin and frame;
The true and proper names of things of old,
Through a religious filence ne'er were told;

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