L. We gaze and turn away, and know not where, Dazzled and drunk with beauty, till the heart Reels with its fulness; there--for ever there-- Chained to the chariot of triumphal Art, We stand as captives, and would not depart. Away!--there need no words, nor terms precise, The paltry jargon of the marble mart, Where Pedantry gulls Folly--we have eyes: Blood, pulse, and breast, confirm the Dardan Shepherd's prize.
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