Un-thread the rude eye of rebellion, and welcome home again discarded faith.
O heaven! that one might read the book of fate, and see the revolution of the times.
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, meeting the check of such another day.
Oh God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea.
This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions; these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion.
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