When Sol in shades of night was lost,
And all was fast asleep,
In glided Townley's murder'd ghost,
And stood at William's feet.
Infernal wretch, away! he cried,
And view the mangled shade,
Who on...
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The roving breezes come and go, the reed beds sweep pand sway, |
Tried always and Condemned by thee |
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Triumph — may be of several kinds — |
How many times these low feet staggered, |
Truth — is as old as God — |
“'Twas the new moon! |
Twice had Summer her fair Verdure |
Blasted with sighs, and surrounded with tears, |