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Rh  In the name of These States, shall I scorn the
 * antique?

Why These are the children of the antique, to
 * justify it.

Dead poets, philosophs, priests, Martyrs, artists, inventors, governments long since, Language-shapers, on other shores, Nations once powerful, now reduced, withdrawn,
 * or desolate,

I dare not proceed till I respectfully credit what you
 * have left, wafted hither,

I have perused it—I own it is admirable, I think nothing can ever be greater—Nothing can
 * ever deserve more than it deserves;

I regard it all intently a long while, Then take my place for good with my own day and
 * race here.

Here lands female and male, Here the heirship and heiress-ship of the world—
 * Here the flame of materials,

Here Spirituality, the translatress, the openly-avowed, The ever-tending, the finale of visible forms, The satisfier, after due long-waiting, now advancing, Yes, here comes the mistress, the Soul.

The ! Forever and forever—Longer than soil is brown and
 * solid—Longer than water ebbs and flows.

I will make the poems of materials, for I think they
 * are to be the most spiritual poems,