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Inscribed by a Singer
MANUEL RODRIGUEZ GARCIA.
Let critics court me with commendance bland,
pure their aim ! how perfect were their art !
What echoes deep the sounding chords would bring!-
Deep in the shadows of the Phocian hills,
And gliding slowly from the pillar'd gloom,
Where far within, thro' shimm’ring laurel boughs,
The amber cressets swung i pensive, yet free, Beyond the Temple's base the Pythia stoodAs lily that in spring-time bursts its sheath,