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&emsp;So vainly wih'd, o fondly hop'd the Mue: Too fondly hop'd. The iron fates prevail, And is no more. Her generous ons, Les vanquih'd than o'erwhelm'd, by numbers cruh'd, Admir'd, unaided fell. So trives the moon In dubious battle with the gathering clouds, And trikes a plendour thro' them; till at length Storms roll'd on torms involve the face of heaven And quench her truggling fires. Forgive the zeal That, too preumptuous, whiper'd better things And read the book of detiny amis. Not with the purple colouring of ucces Is virtue bet adorn'd: th' attempt is praie. There yet remains a freedom, nobler far Than kings or enates can detroy or give; Beyond the proud oppreor's cruel grap Seated ecure; uninjur'd; undetroy'd; Worthy of Gods: The freedom of the mind. The