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And trembled to think how frail, if how fair, Earth's pleasures in beauty and being are; Others had thoughts they feared to name, As that pilgrim could read each heart in its shame: But word or sign gave he to none, And away like a shadow in silence hath gone. Rose the Countess, and left her throne, Signal it was that the meeting was done, And spoke her summons, and graceful led To where the sumptuous board was spread.