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Rh

In vain;—what can reanimate A heart too early desolate? It had been his, it could not save, But it could follow to his grave.

The trumpets peal'd their latest round, Stole from the flutes a softer sound, Swell'd the harp to each master's hand, As onward came the minstrel band! And many a bright cheek grew more bright, And many a dark eye flash'd with light, As bent the minstrel o'er his lute, And urged the lover's plaining suit, Or swept a louder chord, and gave Some glorious history of the brave.