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XXXV.

EMANCIPATION.

No rack can torture me, My soul 's at liberty. Behind this mortal bone There knits a bolder one You cannot prick with saw, Nor rend with scymitar. Two bodies therefore be ; Bind one, and one will flee. The eagle of his nest No easier divest And gain the sky, Than mayest thou. Except thyself may be Thine enemy ; Captivity is consciousness, So 's liberty.