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TO PROFESSOR JEBB,
With the Following Poem.
Fair things are slow to fade away,Bear witness you, that yesterday[1]   From out the Ghost of Pindar in youRoll'd an Olympian; and they say[2]
That here the torpid mummy wheatOf Egypt bore a grain as sweet   As that which gilds the glebe of England,Sunn’d with a summer of milder heat.
  1. ↑ In Bologna.
  2. ↑ They say, for the fact is doubtful.
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