Light up false fires, and send us far about—
Still may yon spider round your pages spin,
Subtile and slow, her emblematic gin!
Buried in dust and lost in silence, dwell;
Most potent, grave, and reverend friends—farewell!
Near these, and where the setting sun displays
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Through the dim window his departing rays,
And gilds yon columns, there, on either side,
The huge abridgments of the Law abide.