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Rh

The harden'd soul await.

By Jove's command what judges there

From stern necessity declare

The fix'd decrees of fate.

Where beams of everlasting day

Through night's unclouded season play,

Free from mortality's alloy,

The good shall perfect bliss enjoy.

They nor with daring hands molest

Earth's torn and violated breast,

Nor search the caverns of the main

An empty being to sustain;

But with the honour'd gods, whose ear

The faithful vow delights to hear,

Shall be their tearless age of rest;

While pangs of aspect dire distract the impious train.

But they whose spirit thrice refined

Each arduous contest could endure,

And keep the firm and perfect mind

From all contagion pure;