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He sang to the victor, who loosened his captives, While the tears of his childhood sprang into his eyes. He died—and his lute was bequeathed to the cypress, And his tones to the hearts that loved music and song.

Long ages pass'd, from the dim world of shadows These Brothers return'd to revisit the earth; They came to revisit the place of their glory, To hear and rejoice in the sound of their fame. They looked for the palace—the temple of marble— The rose-haunted gardens—a desert was there; The sand, like the sea in its wrath, had swept o'er them, And tradition had even forgotten their names. The Conqueror stood on the place of his battles,