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189

These seek the Grot by Ivy bound,
Where calm Retirement loves to dwell;
Where Love himself has breathed around,
A might, a mysterious spell.

And then the Cave! where Flora pours
Her simplest sweets to Solitude,
Where oft I passed romantic hours,
And Fictions wild creation view'd.

Once while I mourn'd! thy pitying Muse
In this fair Cave a reed bestow'd,
The wildest notes she bade me choose,
And thro' the Vale my sorrows flow'd.

While Echo learnt the hopes the fears,
The varying feelings of my breast,
And Solitude beheld my tears,
Till Hope had lulled my griefs to rest.

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