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Consumed with its Promethean flame 
Its shrine — than sunk her so to shame. 
Then, rouse thee, dearest, from the dream 
That fetters now thy powers; 
Shake off this gloom! Hope sheds a beam 
To gild each cloud that lowers — 
And though, at present, seems so far 
The wished for goal — a guiding star, 
With steady ray would light thee on 
Until its utmost bound be won, — 
That quenchless ray thou ’It ever prove, 
In fond, undying, wedded love! 
