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 One low mournful dirge to tell I have bid the world farewell.

  praise rang forth, the prize is won, Young minstrel, thou hast equal none! They led him to the lady's seat, And knelt he down at feet; She bent his victor brow to deck, And, fainting, sunk upon his neck! The cap and plume aside were thrown, 'Twas as the grave restored its own, And sent its victim forth to share Light, life, and hope, and sun, and air.

That day the feast spread gay and bright In honour of the youthful knight, 