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the gold-seeker.
The rudest wind which comes where thou art lying,
Listening the chiming waters as they flow,
May scarcely set the mournful pines a-sighing,
Or shake down rose-leaves on thy dreaming brow.

Arouse! look up, to where above thee tower
Regions of being grander, freer, higher,
Where God reveals his presence and his power,
E'en as of old, in thunders and in fire.

Then stray no longer in the valleys vernal;
Ascend where darkness and great lights belong,
Sunshine and tempest; scale the heights eternal,
Go forth and tread the mountain-paths of song!

From those far summits shall thy thought's clear voicing
Fall like the sweep of torrents on the world;
Thy lays speed forth, exultant and rejoicing,
Their eagle pinions on the winds unfurled.

Ah, when the soul of ancient song was blending
With the rapt bard's in his immortal strains,
'T was like the wine drunk on Olympus, sending
Divine intoxication through the veins.