Chapter LXIII

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That free born spirit who could rouse again?
The dried-up fountain and the scorched up field.
The breath, that withers mountain, flood, and plain,
To Nature's revolution learn to yield:
As strong as ever, man may tread the soil,
And sweat for others at his daily toil--
But how shall he regain the gift unbought,
The privilege to act the high resolve of thought?