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And no return be made by me?
No, let this wish on thee await,
And still to flourish be thy fate;
To future ages may'st thou stand
Untouched by the rash workman's hand;20
'Till that large stock of sap be spent,
Which gives thy summer's ornament;
Till the fierce winds, that vainly strive
To shock thy greatness whilst alive,
Shall on thy lifeless hour attend,
Prevent the axe, and grace thy end;
Their scattered strength together call,
And to the clouds proclaim thy fall.
........
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