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But from those walls victorious thou'lt return (Constantine smiles sorrowfully.) Nay, but thou shalt return: high heav'n decrees it; Virtue, and every good and blessed thing Have made it sure. Ev'n, in faith as strong As at this moment I do hold to this, Methinks, upon the chaf'd and tossing waves Of the wild deep I could thus firmly tread, Be thou assur'd! I know it shall be so. A mystic sage, Whom I, unknown to thee, have visited— Pardon this weakness of thine anxious wife— Darting his eye on forms of woven air, Saw thee in combat with a Turkish champion, And saw the crescent fall.

And may'st thou not believe, that ere they close Their mortal warfare, many a boastful Turk Beneath these arms shall fall?

Ay, but on surer words I rest my faith! For I did bid him onward cast his eye Into time's reach, and say, who of this city,