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" "Nor let the critic, if he find the meaning of Camoens in some instances altered, imagine that he has found a blunder in the Translator. ... It was not to gratify the dull few, whose greatest pleasure in reading a translation is to see what the author exactly says; it was to give a poem that might live in the English language which was the ambition of the Translator. ... And the original is in the hands of the world.
William Julius Mickle (29 September 1734 – 28 October 1788) was a Scottish poet.
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Awake, ye West Winds, through the lonely dale,
And Fancy, to thy fairy bower betake;
Even now, with balmy freshness breathes the gale,
Dimpling with downy wing the stilly lake;
Through the pale willows faltering whispers wake,
And Evening comes with locks bodropp'd with dew;
On Desmond's mouldering turrets slowly shake
The trembling rye-grass and the harehell blue,
And ever and anon fair Mulla's plaints renew.
My father joy'd to show the pleasant road,
That leads thro' nature, up to nature's God.
While others teach their sons the love of gold,
He to my opening judgment would unfold
The classic page.—My mother would inspire
And fan the sallies of the muse's fire:
She taught me to be great, was to be good;
That goodness far excell'd the noblest blood.