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The river is forded, the frontier is passed, And they reach the lone village by midnight at last: Would you gather its fate? In the darkness of night The forests around it are red in its light.

Its dwellers have fled, in the wild woods to roam; All roofless and black is the place of their home; And their daughters, dishonoured, are weeping in vain, Nor will boast of their pride and their scorning again.