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III. But Venus, suffering not her favourite worm For aye to fleepen in his filky tomb, Instructs him to throw off his pristine form, And the gay features of a fly assume; When, lo! eftfoons from the surrounding gloom, He vigorous breaks, forth issuing from the wound His horny beak had made, and finding room,
On new-plum’d pinions flutters all around,
Like thine own hero dight, fliest o’er the plains,
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.