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மயிலை சீனி. வேங்கடசாமி ஆய்வுக்களஞ்சியம் -20
As in the last night's vision; there it stooped
With love in bashful eyes,
Over my brow, with tresses that I touched.
With breath whose fragrance lingered yet in waking,
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And balmed the morn, as when a dove, that brings Ambrosia to Olympus, sheds on earth
Drops from a passing wing:
Surely the vision made itself thus living
To test my boast, that truth so fills this soul
It could not lodge a falsehood ev'n in dream:
Wonderest thou, Magian, now,
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Why I refuse to wed the Scythian's daughter ?
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And if I thus confide to thee a tale
I would not whisper into ears profane,
Tis that where reason ends,
Men have no choice between the Gods and Chaos.
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Ye Magi are the readers of the stars,
Versed in the language of the world of dreams:
Wherefore consult thy lore,
And tell me if Earth hold a mortal maiden
In whom my nightly vision breathes and moves. If not, make mine such talismans and spells, As banish from the soul
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Dreams that annul its longing for the daylight.
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Up to his lofty fire-tower climbed the mage,
Explored the stars and drew Chaldaean schemes; Thrid the drak maze of books
Opening on voids beyond the bounds of Nature;
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Placed crystal globes in hands of infants pure; Invoked the demonds haunting impious graves; And all, alas, in vain;
The dream, adjured against itself to witness,
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