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Prologue. These given, what more need I desire,

To stir—to sooth—or elevate?

What nobler marvels than the mind

May in life's daily prospect find,

May find or there create?

A potent wand doth Sorrow wield;

What spell so strong as guilty Fear!

Repentance is a tender sprite;

If aught on earth have heavenly might,

'Tis lodg'd within her silent tear.

But grant my wishes,—let us now

Descend from this ethereal height;

Then take thy way, adventurous Skiff,

More daring far than Hippogriff,

And be thy own delight!