ODE III.
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ODE III.
Against Suspicion.
O Fly! 'Tis dire Suspicion's mein:
And, meditating plagues unseen,
The sorc'ress hither bends:
Behold her torch in gall imbrued:
Behold her garments drop with blood
Of lovers and of friends.
Fly far! Already in your eyes
I see a pale suffusion rise;
And soon thro' every vein,
Soon will her secret venom spread,
And all your heart and all your head
Imbibe the potent stain.
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