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I. THE POETIC FUNCTION.—1.

The College of the Priests is with us still:
Still on our low, and sin-defilèd ground
The borders of their sacred vestments sound:
But where by caverned wood, or crested hill,
Or cedar-girded mountain citadel,
Where are the high-commissioned Prophets found?
The Unanointed Order, not uncrowned,
For whom the curtain unremovable
Of Time, transparent grows;—to whom is given,
When mighty Nations rage in anarchy,
Bending with arm outstretched and potent rod
To part the waves of that rebellious sea;
To warn ill Rulers of the ways of Heaven,
And sternly monish Kings that know not God?