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Truly， my Satan， thou art but a dunce，
And dost not know the garment from the man； Every harlot was a virgin1 once， Nor canst thou ever change Kate into Nan. Tho' thou art worship'd by the names divine Of Jesus and Jehovah， thou art still The Son of Morn in weary Night's decline， The lost traveller's dream under the hill. 点击  收听单词发音
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