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Alas! the fowls of Heaven have wings,And blasts of Heaven will aid their flight;They mount, how short a voyage bringsThe Wanderers back to their delight!Chains tie us down by land and sea;And wishes, vain as mine, may beAll that is left to comfort thee.
Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan,Maim'd, mangled by inhuman men;Or thou upon a Desart thrownInheritest the Lion's Den;Or hast been summoned to the Deep,Thou, Thou and all thy mates, to keepAn incommunicable sleep.
I look for Ghosts; but none will forceTheir way to me; 'tis falsely saidThat there was ever intercourseBetwixt the living and the dead;