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6

HE dawn again is breaking o'er the deep;

Shall we still journey onward, or yet keep

The fast in Athens? The sea heaves

And murmurs, as the yellow autumn leaves

At eastern winds, and nought relieves

The masses of grey clouds, but ever dark

They stand; and on this day no song

SaidSave [sic] of the lark.

For is not now this day a day of tears,

Kept through the long-past years?

Kept and is keeping,

In fast and in weeping.

Now in the city where they stand,

Sorrowing in dark attire,

Wailing at the priest's command

A dirge, while with a lamp of fire

Slowly he lights the sacred pyre

With sad desire.

See, for thy sake is weariness;

Queen for thy sake is great distress.

Let us not perish, kind earth mother,

Sister by sister, brother by brother;

But heavy with thy heaviness,

Mourning and weeping on the temple floor,

Let there be pity for our great complaint.

And as by the sea shore,

We, washing, all were freed from taint;

Turn to us, mighty Queen, and weep no more.

So passed the day in mourning and in fast.