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167

III. TO ---.

Go, join the mincing measures of the crowd,
And be that abject thing which men call wise,
In the World's school of wisdom!—I despise
Thy proffered aid!—Go! Thou may'st court the proud,
With ready smile, and ever bended knee;
But I do scorn to owe a debt to thee
My soul could not repay.—There was a tie
(Would it existed now!) which might have kept
Peace, and good will between us:—I have wept,
With tears of wild and breathless agony,
That it should pass away;—and sought to quell
The angry thoughts that in my breast would swell,
When dwelling on my injuries:—but yet—
Though I forgive,—I never can forget!