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And thou, mine honour'd love and true, Bear on, bear nobly on! We have the blessed heaven in view, Whose rest shall soon be won."

And were not these high words to flow From woman's breaking heart? Thro' all that night of bitterest wo   She bore her lofty part; But oh! with such a glazing eye, With such a curdling cheek— Love, love! of mortal agony, Thou, only thou shouldst speak!

The wind rose high,—but with it rose Her voice, that he might hear: Perchance that dark hour brought repose To happy bosoms near;