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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.
