Come, swift-wing'd Fancy, airy maid,In varied, dazzling vest array'd,Inspire thy vot'ry's lay;Grant me thy flow'ry walks to tread,To range thy summer-painted mead,Or near thy fountain play.Now led by thy resistless hand,Or guided by thy fairy wand,O'er yet untrodden space;Or on thy pinions borne along,The bright Ideas' flitting throngsPursue th' aerial race.
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