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"They speak of toil, and of high emprise,   As in words of solemn cheer, They speak of lonely victories    O'er pain, and doubt, and fear.

"They speak of scenes which have now become   Bright pictures in my breast; Where my spirit finds a glorious home,    And the love of my heart can rest.

"The colours pass not from these away,   Like tints of shower or sun; Oh! beyond all treasures that know decay,    Is the wealth my soul hath won!

"A rich light thence o'er my life's decline,   An inborn light is cast; For the sake of the palm from the holy shrine,    I bewail not my bright days past!"