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I have sown, like Tycho Brahé, that a greater man may reap;

But if none should do my reaping, 'twill disturb me in my sleep.

So be careful and be faithful, though, like me, you leave no name;

See, my boy, that nothing turn you to the mere pursuit of fame.

I must say Good-bye, my pupil, for I cannot longer speak;

Draw the curtain back for Venus, ere my vision grows too weak:

It is strange the pearly planet should look red as fiery Mars,—

God will mercifully guide me on my way amongst the stars.