III
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ut not our filmy pinionWe scorch amid the blaze of day,When Noontide's fiery-tresséd minionFlashes the fervid ray.Aye from the sultry heat 25We to the cave retreatO'ercanopied by huge roots intertwin'dWith wildest texture, blacken'd o'er with age:Round them their mantle green the ivies bind,Beneath whose foliage pale 30Fann'd by the unfrequent galeWe shield us from the Tyrant's mid-day rage.
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