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The Poetical Works of Thomas Chatterton

with an essay on the Rowley poems by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat and a memoir by Edward Bell

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49

LIX.

Celmond, alone.
Cel.
Hope, holy sister, sweeping through the sky
In crown of gold, and robe of lily white,
Which far abroad in gentle air doth fly,
Meeting from distance the delighted sight,
Albeit oft thou takest thy high flight
Wrapped in a mist, and with thine eyes yblent,
Now comest thou to me with starry light;
Unto thy vest the red sun is adente;
The summer tide and month of May appear
Painted with skilful hand upon thy wide aumere.