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  • From the German by Sir Theodore Martin and William Edmondstoune Aytoun WHO rides so late through the midnight blast? ’T is a father spurs on with his child full fast; He gathers the boy well into his arm, He clasps him close and he keeps him warm. “My son, why thus to my arm dost cling?”— “...

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    Il porte l’enfant dans ses bras,
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