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30 More had the goblet poke, but lo! appears An ancient Sybil urrow'd o'er with years. Her apect our, and tern ungracious look With udden damp the concious veel truck: Chill'd at her touch its mouth it lowly clos'd, And in long ilence all its griefs repos'd: Yet till low murmurs creep along the ground, And the air vibrates with the ilver ound. ON