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Others whose glory flung o'er history's page Imperishable lustre. There she stood, Forsaken ; round her brow Wreathed the glad vine-leaves; but it wore a shade Of early wretchedness, that which once flung May never be effaced: and near her leant , and his spiritual beauty wore The likeness of divinity; for love Doth elevate to itself, and she who watch'd Over his sleeping face, upon it left The brightness of herself. Around the walls Hung pictures, some which gave the summer all Summer can wish, a more eternal bloom; And others in some young and lovely face Embodied dreams into reality. There hung a portrait of St. ,