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We have proud words that speak of intellect; We talk of mind that magnifies the world, And makes it glorious: much of this is true,— All time attests the miracles of man: The very elements, whose nature seems To mock dominion, yet have worn his yoke. His way has been upon the pathless sea; The earth's dark bosom search'd; bodiless air Works as his servant; and from his own mind What rich stores he has won, the sage, the bard, The painter, these have made their nature proud: And yet how life goes on, its great outline How noble and ennobling!—but within How mean, how poor, how pitiful, how mix'd With base alloy; how Disappointment tracks The steps of Hope; how Envy dogs success;