NEMESIS.
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lready blushes in thy cheekThe bosom-thought which thou must speak;The bird, how far it haply roamBy cloud or isle, is flying home;The maiden fears, and fearing runsInto the charmed snare she shuns;And every man, in love or pride,Of his fate is never wide. Will a woman's fan the ocean smooth?Or prayers the stony Parcae sooth,Or coax the thunder from its mark?Or tapers light the chaos dark?In spite of Virtue and the Muse,Nemesis will have her dues,And all our struggles and our toilsTighter wind the giant coils.
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