Chapter XII

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Upon my brow I feel the furrow's course,
Deep sinking inward to the source of thought;
The deeper sinking if I seek its source,
Or try to crush its agony, unsought,
O! tell thy secret, thou stern vampyre, Care!
E'en for Philosophy thou hast a snare,
For in thy quest she wears the galling chain,
Making the burden more, the more she'd soothe its pain.