Page:The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe (Volume II).djvu/33

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No shrewish teares shall fill our eye When the sword-hilt's in our hand,— Heart-whole we'll part, and no whit sighs For the fayrest of the land; Let piping swaine, and craven wight, Thus weepe and puling crye, Our business is like men to fight, And hero-like to die!