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Normale Version: No more by cold philosophy confined;
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No more by cold philosophy confined;
By fearful models now no more depressed;
I give full range to my erratic mind,
And with wild visions soothe my beating breast!

Hail, thou loved season, when the hollow wind
Strips the torn forest of its golden vest;
Shrieks in the echoing domes, and frights the hind,
Who sees sad spirits through his broken rest!

But while the rain descends, and while the storm
Bursts in loud eddies through the sobbing grove,
Spirits before my view of heavenly form,

And scenes of wondrous beauty seem to rove!
Sweet Inspiration's voice my Fancy hears;
And verse immortal seems to meet my ears!