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Bright beings! that ponder, With half closing eyes, On the stars which your wonder Hath drawn from the skies, Till they glance thro' the shade, and Come down to your brow Like eyes of the maiden Who calls on you now – Arise! from your dreaming In violet bowers, To duty beseeming These star-litten hours – And shake from your tresses Encumber'd with dew The breath of those kisses That cumber them too – (O! how, without you, Love!      Could angels be blest?) Those kisses of true Love That lull'd ye to rest! Up! – shake from your wing Each hindering thing: