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Rh :They freed my vision from its spell, And led my steps o’er hill and dell, Far from that sprite-frequented fell; And pointed out the road to Mon, The way my love-sick heart had flown. (Alas, this wayward heart of mine!) But not till morning did I gain, By a long sleepless night of pain, The palace of the maid divine. Ah, maiden, miracle of Mon! Again at midnight will I never Thus rove for thee—thus strive to shiver With axe of wood a rock of stone.