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Charles! whilst yet thou wert a babe, I ween That Genius plunged thee in that wizard fount Hight Castalie; and (sureties of thy faith) That Pity and Simplicity stood by, And promised for thee, that thou shouldst renounce The world's low cares and lying vanities, Stedfast and rooted in the heavenly Muse, And wash'd and sanctified to Poesy. Yes—thou wert plunged, but with forgetful hand Held, as by Thetis erst her warrior Son: And with those recreant unbaptized Heels Thou'rt flying from thy bounden Ministeries— So sore it seems and burthensome a task To weave unwithering flowers! But take thou heed: For thou art vulnerable, wild eyed Boy,