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Were menaced with a siege; and he had sworn By 's white hand that he would claim Its beauty only as a conqueror's prize. Autumn was on the woods, when the blue Rhine Grew red with blood:—'s banner flies, And gallant is the bearing of his ranks. But where is he who said that he would ride At his right hand to battle?—! where— Oh! where is ?

has watched Day after day, night after night, in vain, Till she has wept in hopelessness, and thought Upon old histories, and said with them, "There is no faith in man's fidelity!"