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Yet, in that hour, midst those green wastes, there sate One young and fair; and oh! how desolate! But undismay'd; while sank the crimson light, And the high cedars darken'd with the night. Alone she sate: tho' many lay around, They, pale and silent on the bloody ground, Were sever'd from her need and from her wo, Far as Death severs Life. O'er that wild spot Combat had rag'd, and brought the valiant low, And left them, with the history of their lot, Unto the forest oaks. A fearful scene For her whose home of other days had been Midst the fair halls of England! but the love Which fill'd her soul was strong to cast out fear, And by its might upborne all else above, She shrank not—mark'd not that the dead were near.