Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/96

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Now is their hearth a forsaken spot, The vine waves unpruned o'er their mountain-cot; Away, in that holy affection's might, The maiden is gone, like a breeze of the night;— She is gone forth alone, but her lighted face, Filling with soul every secret place, Hath a dower from heaven, and a gift of sway, To arouse brave hearts in its hidden way, Like the sudden flinging forth on high, Of a banner that startleth silently!