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Whom nor the fame of god nor lightning’s stroke
The crossbars at the gates of nature’s old

Substance is eternal
This terror, then, this darkness of the mind
Not sunrise with its flaring spokes of light
Nor glittering arows of morning can disperse
But only Nature's aspect and her law
Which, teaching us, hath this exordium:
Nothing from nothing ever yet was born

For Memmius mine who thou has willed to be

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