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HENCE, loathed Melancholy,
Of Cerberus and blackest midnight born,
In Stygian cave forlorn,
'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy;
Find out some uncouth cell,
Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings,
And the night raven sings:
There, under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks,
As ragged as thy locks,
In dark cimmerian desert ever dwell.