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But when those leaves and flowers were raised, A lamp beneath their covering blazed. She led through a small path whose birth Seem'd in the hidden depths of earth,— 'Twas dark and damp, and on the ear There came a rush of waters near. At length the drear path finds an end,— Beneath a dark low arch they bend; "Safe, safe!" the maiden cried, and prest The red cross to her panting breast! "Yes, we are safe!—on, stranger, on, The worst is past, and freedom won! Somewhat of peril yet remains, But peril not from Moorish chains;— With hope and heaven be our lot!" She spoke, but answer'd not: