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But it was that a star was rising there, Like a diamond set in the purple air, The natal star of her own true knight— No marvel the maiden watched its light: At their parting hour they bade it be Their watch and sign of fidelity.

Amid the rich and purple crowd That throng the west, is a single cloud, Differing from all around, it sails, The cradle of far other gales Than the soft and southern airs, which bring But the dew and the flower-sigh on their wing; Like some dark spirit's shadowy car, It floats on and hides that lovely star, While the rest of the sky is bright and clear, The sole dark thing in the hemisphere.

But the maiden had turned from sea and sky, To gaze on the winding path, where her eye A pilgrim's distant form had scann'd: He is surely one of the sacred band Who seek their heavenly heritage By prayer and toil and pilgrimage! She staid not to braid her raven hair,— Loose it flow'd on the summer air;