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! unto thee I lift My hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift: CXXXI. Amidst this wreck, where thou hast made a shrine And temple more divinely desolate-- Among thy mightier offerings here are mine, Ruins of years--though few, yet full of fate:-- If thou hast ever seen me too elate, Hear me not; but if calmly I have borne Good, and reserved my pride against the hate Which shall not whelm me, let me not have worn This iron in my soul in vain--shall _they_ not mourn? CXXXII. And Thou, who never yet of human wrong Left the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis![509][28.H.] Here, where the ancient paid thee homage long-- Thou, who didst call the Furies from the abyss, And round Orestes bade them howl and hiss For that unnatural retribution--just, Had it but been from hands less near--in this Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust! Dost thou not hear my heart?--Awake! thou shalt, and must. CXXXIII. It is not that I may not have incurred, For my ancestral faults or mine, the wound[op] I bleed withal; and, had it been conferred With a just weapon, it had flowed unbound; But now my blood shall not sink in the ground-- To thee I do devote it--_Thou_ shalt take The vengeance, which shall yet be sought and found-- Which if _I_ have not taken for the sake-- But let that pass--I sleep--but Thou shalt yet awake. CXXXIV. And if my voice break forth, 'tis not that now[oq] I shrink from what is suffered: let him speak Who hath beheld decline upon my brow, Or seen my mind's convulsion leave it weak; But in this page a record will I seek. Not in the air shall these my words disperse, Though I be ashes; a far hour shall wreak The deep prophetic fulness of this verse, And pile on human heads the mountain of my curse! CXXXV. That curse shall be Forgiveness.--Have I not-- Hear me, my mother Earth! behold it, Heaven!-- Have I not had to wrestle with my lot? Have I not suffered things to be forgiven? Have I not had my brain seared, my heart riven, Hopes sapped, name blighted, Life's life lied away? And only not to desperat
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