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Fierce was the struggle, and her flight Meanwhile had gain'd a neighbouring height, Which dark above the river stood, And look'd upon the rushing flood; 'Twas compass'd round, she was bereft Of the vague hope that flight had left. One moment, and they saw her kneel, And then, as Heaven heard her appeal, She flung her downwards from the rock: Her heart was nerved by death to mock What that heart never might endure, The slavery of a godless Moor.

And madness in its burning pain Seized on my mother's heart and brain: She died that night, and the next day Beheld my father far away.