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But amid the gold of its thousand curls Was twisted a braid of snow-white pearls,— They said 'twas a charmed spell; that before, This braid her nameless mother wore; And many were the stories wild Whisper'd of the neglected child.

, (thus the tale was told), The former lord of the castle-hold,— had followed the chase Till he was first and last in the race; The blood-dy'd sweat hung on his steed, Each breath was a gasp, yet he stay'd not his speed. Twice the dust and foam had been wash'd By the mountain torrent that over them dash'd; But still the stag held on his way, Till a forest of pine trees before them lay,