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20 How rich a field is to your hopes diplay'd! Knowledge to you unlocks the claic page; And virtue blooms for a better age. Oh golden days! oh bright unvalued hours! What blis (did ye but know that blis) were yours? With richet tores your glowing booms fraught, Perception quick, and luxury of thought; The high deigns that heave the labouring oul, Panting for fame, impatient of controul; And fond enthuiatic thought, that feeds On pictur'd tales of vat heroic deeds; And quick affections, kindling into flame At virtue's, or their country's honour'd name; And pirits light, to every joy in tune; And friendhip, ardent as a ummer's noon; And generous corn of vice's venal tribe; And proud didain of interet's ordid bribe; And concious honour's quick intinctive ene; And