NOT `mid the world`s vain objects that enslave The free-born Soul--that World whose vaunted skill In selfish interest perverts the will, Whose factions lead astray the wise and brave-- Not there; but in dark wood and rocky cave, And hollow vale which foaming torrents fill With omnipresent murmur as they rave Down their steep beds, that never shall be still: Here, mighty Nature! in this school sublime I weigh the hopes and fears of suffering Spain; For her consult the auguries of time, And through the human heart explore my way; And look and listen--gathering, whence I may, Triumph, and thoughts no bondage can restrain.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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