XXVIII.
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o horse! to horse! he quits, for ever quits[53]A scene of peace, though soothing to his soul:[bl]Again he rouses from his moping fits,But seeks not now the harlot and the bowl.[bm]Onward he flies, nor fixed as yet the goalWhere he shall rest him on his pilgrimage;And o'er him many changing scenes must rollEre toil his thirst for travel can assuage,[bn]Or he shall calm his breast, or learn experience sage.
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