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 * Let supercilious Wisdom's smiling pride

The passion wild of these bold days deride; But let the humbler Sage with reverence own That something sacred glows, of name unknown, Glows in the deeds that Heaven delights to crown; Something that boasts an impulse uncontroul'd By school-taught prudence, and its maxims cold. Fired at the thought, methinks on sacred ground I tread; where'er I cast mine eyes around, Palmela's hill and Cintra's summits tell How the grim Sarazen's dread legions fell; Turbans and cymetersscimitars [sic] in carnage roll'd, And their moon'd ensigns torn from every hold:— Yes, let the Youth whose generous search explores The various lessons of Iberia's shores, Let him as wandering at the Muse's hour Of eve or morn where low the Moorish tower, Fallen from its rocky height and tyrant sway, Lies scatter'd o'er the dale in fragments grey,

Let