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, who softly walkest all thy days, In silken garment to the tunes of praise;— Lover, whose dreamings by the green-bank'd river, Where once she wander'd, fain would last for ever;— King, whom the nations scan, adoring scan. And shout 'a god,' when sin hath mark'd thee man;— Bard, on whose brow the Hyblan dew remains, Albeit the fever burneth in the veins;— Hero, whose sword in tyrant's blood is hot;— Sceptic, who doubting, wouldst be doubted not;— Man, whosoe'er thou art, whate'er thy trust;— Respect thyself in me;—thou treadest dust.