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The Voice of the
Ancient Bard.
Youth of delight come hither,
And see the opening morn,
Image of truth
new-born.
Doubt is fled & clouds of reason.
Dark disputes & artful teazing.
Folly is an endless maze,
Tangled roots perplex her ways,
How many have fallen there!
They stumble all night over bones of the dead:
And
feel they know not what but care;
And wish to lead others when they should be led.
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