We have seen mighty men ballooning high, And in another moment bump the ground. He falls; and in his measurement is found To count some inches o`er the common fry. `Twas not enough to send him climbing sky, Yet `twas enough above his fellows crowned, Had he less panted. Let his faithful hound Bark at detractors. He may walk or lie. Concerns it most ourselves, who with our gas - This little Isle`s insatiable greed For Continents--filled to inflation burst. So do ripe nations into squalor pass, When, driven as herds by their old private thirst, They scorn the brain`s wild search for virtuous light.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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