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Poem

Steer, bold mariner, on! albeit witlings deride thee,
And the steersman drop idly his hand at the helm;
Ever, ever to westward! There must the coast be discovered,
If it but lie distinct, luminous lie in thy mind.

Trust to the God that leads thee, and follow the sea that is silent;
Did it not yet exist, now would it rise from the flood.
Nature with Genius stands united in league everlasting;
What is promised to one, surely the other performs.

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Chaucer
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Consolation. (To M. Duperrier, Gentleman Of Aix In Provence, On The Death Of His Daughter)