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Petition for an absolute Retreat.
Give me, O indulgent Fate!
Give me yet before I die
A sweet but absolute Retreat,
'Mongst paths so lost and trees so high,
That the world may ne'er invade,
Through such windings and such shade.
My unshaken liberty.
No intruders thither come!
Who visit but to be from home.
None who their vain moments pass, 10
Only studious of their glass
News, that charm to listening ears
That false alarm to hopes and fears,
B 2
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