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 I. 
I. LIFE
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I. LIFE

A thousand dreams will draw thy feet aside
And tempt the suffrage of thy ready lyre:
Fair life will proffer thee a fair empire,—
This world's wild splendour, all its power and pride.
Seek thou the untrodden paths, where none may guide
Save thine own soul's strong star that shines like fire:
Beyond our dying century's bards aspire
With Byron, be with Shelley deified.
England expects far greater things from thee
Than from the puny crew who chant and wail,
The club their heaven, and Primrose Hill their throne.
O'er wastes of thought whereon no glimmering sail
Has flashed she drives thee forth, and bids thee be
For ever fearless, though for ever alone.