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Sonnet LXXVIII
So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse
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And found such fair assistance in my verse
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As every alien pen hath got my use
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And under thee their poesy disperse.
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Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing
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And heavy ignorance aloft to fly
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Have added feathers to the learned's wing
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And given grace a double majesty.
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Yet be most proud of that which I compile,
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Whose influence is thine and born of thee:
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In others' works thou dost but mend the style,
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And arts with thy sweet graces graced be;
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But thou art all my art and dost advance
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As high as learning my rude ignorance.
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