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But stubbornness was in my heart; and I Turn'd away silently: Yet still I could but hear the warning voice— "Methinks, thou dost rejoice In this thine exile"—then I answer made "Alas! 'twas not my choice."

Much did I marvel what the voice could be, That thus importuned me; And I cried out—"Those tones, oh! whose are they That now I hear—oh! say: Me-thought at first it was my mother's voice: That thought has died away;

"And now I know not"—Then the voice replied "I am thy friend—thy guide— Thou hast none such throughout this teeming earth; E'en from thy very birth, I have watched o'er thee; and I charge thee now, Reseek thy father's hearth."

Then sickness came upon me: and I lay For many a weary day, Cursing the hour, when first I saw the light: At morn I pray'd for night, And when night came I long'd for day to burst Upon my straining sight.

Then I had visions, though I never slept. But aye my senses kept— Wild, troubled visions which I could not quell, Although I knew right well. That my distempered brain saw many things Which were invisible.

And as I lay upon the bed of pain, I heard the voice again; "My son, dost thou believe me?"—and I cried "Oh! my best friend—my guide— Whatever thou mayest be, relieve me, and Thou shalt be deified."