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Rh

When loveliest,—these may not be, , my parting gift to thee." From next her heart, where it had lain, She took an amber scented chain, To which a cross of gold was hung, And round the warrior's neck she flung The relique, while he kiss'd away The warm tears that upon it lay. And mark'd they not the pale, dim sky Had lost its moonlit brilliancy, When suddenly a bugle rang,— Forth at its summons sprang, But turn'd again to say farewell To her whose gushing teardrops fell Like summer rain,—but he is gone! And  weeps, and weeps alone.