III
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ay Heav'nly Muse, shall not thy sacred veinAfford a present to the Infant God?Hast thou no vers, no hymn, or solemn strein,To welcom him to this his new abode,Now while the Heav'n by the Suns team untrod,Hath took no print of the approching light, 20And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?
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