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The youth who lifts his graceful hand,

Struck the unshapen block, And Beauty leap'd, at his command,

A Venus from the rock.

Trembling with ecstasy of thought.

Behold the Grecian maid. Whom love's enchanting impulse taught

To trace a slumberer's shade.

Sweet are the thefts of love ; — she stole

His image while he lay. Kindled the shadow to a soul.

And breathed that soul through clay.

Yon listening nymph, who looks behind,

With countenance of fire, Heard midnight music in the wind,

— And framed the jEolian lyre.

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