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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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