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In thee from high Olympick halls behold themselves, thy grandsires’ sprites; far-famèd pair; this clad in Peacetide’s angel-robe of gold, that crimson-hued with paint of battle-glare:
By thee they hope to see their tale twice told, their lofty memo’ries live again; and there, when Time thy years shall end, for thee they ’sign a seat where soareth Fame’s eternal shrine.