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The moonlight falleth lovely over earth; And strange, indeed, must be the mind of man That can resist its beautiful reproach. How can hate work like fever in the soul With such entire tranquillity around? Evil must be our nature to refuse Such gentle intercession.

garden of Sir George Kingston communicated with the park; and through it the four gentlemen passed, brushing the dew from the drooping roses as they went. The night was singularly lovely: but it had no soothing influence over human