Enough, my muse, thy wearied wing no more Must to the seat of Jove triumphant soar. Chilled by my nation's cold neglect, thy fires Glow bold no more, and all thy rage expires. (Luís de Camões)

Enough, my muse, thy wearied wing no more Must to the seat of Jove triumphant soar. Chilled by my nation's cold neglect, thy fires Glow bold no more, and all thy rage expires.

Luís de Camões

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