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113
SCENE FROM BOYHOOD.
Look through the casement of yon village school,Where now the pedant with his oaken rule
Sits like Augustus on the imperial throne,
Between two poets yet to fame unknown:
114
Some younger Virgil fills the room with sighs;
Who, suffering now for one untimely laugh,
Erelong will write his master's epitaph;
Forgetting in his lines and comments bland
The painful ridges on his blistered hand.
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