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Recall the lovely woman. All in vain She looked for him she sought; but when one pass'd With raven hair and tall, her heart beat high— Then sank again, when her impatient glance Fell on a stranger's face. At length she reached A stately room, richer than all the rest, For there were loveliest things, though not of life: Canvass, to which the painter's soul had given A heaven of beauty; and statues, which were touched With art so exquisite, the marble seemed Animate with emotion. It is strange, Amid its deepest feelings, how the soul Will cling to outward images, as thus It could forget its sickness! There she gazed, And envied the sad smile, the patient look, Of a pale Magdalen: it told of grief,