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439 Lydia


Bright glories rush upon my sight,
And charm my wond'ring eyes -
The regions of immortal light,
The beauties of the skies.

All hail, ye fair, celestial shores,
Ye lands of endless day!
A rich delight your prospect pours,
And drives my griefs away.

There's a delightful clear sun now,
My clouds of doubt are gone;
Fled is my former darkness too,
My fears are all withdrawn.

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