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He watched the worn and weary sail; I would that he had told its tale! Then, honoured like a thing divine, I had not dared to make it mine. Upon that deck a lady stands, The fairest that e'er wrung her hands; Or bowed a radiant brow to weep Over the wide unpitying deep. And leave we Venice to her hour Of festival, and pride, and power, To learn whate'er the cause can be That brings such maiden o'er the sea.

The Queen of Cyprus is the maid, But banished from her throne and land; She comes to seek for foreign aid, Against a false and factious band.