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Yet I would not call them
Voices of warning, that announce to us
Only the inevitable. As the sun,
Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image
In the atmosphere--so often do the spirits
Of great events stride on before the events,
And in to-day already walks to-morrow.[2]
[1] Calderon de la Barca.
[2] Coleridge's Translation of Schiller's Wallenstein.
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