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" To fancy's wizard gaze, fleet o'er yon height, 

 Hunters and hounds tumultuous sweep along ; 



And many a lovely dame and youthful knight 

 Gaily commingle with the stalwarth throng 



Of valiant nobles, famed in olden song ; 

 But not amid them, as they rapid ride, 



Is that meek damsel trained by grievous wrong 

 Of haughty parents to abase her pride, 

 Ere yet her lot it was to be more sternly tried. 



4 Here from her casement, as she cast a look, 



Oft might she mourn their reckless sport to scan ; 

 And well rejoice to find, in classic book, 



Solace, withdrawn from all that pleasure can 

 Impart to rude and riot-loving man : 



Aye, and when at the banquet, revels ran 

 To loud extreme, she here was wont to haste, 



And marvel at Creation's mighty plan ; 

 Or with old bards and sages pleasure taste, 

 Unknown to Folly's crowd, whose days all run to waste 

 " And thus it was the child of solitude, 



She grew apart, beneath that Father's eye 

 Who careth for the wild-birds' nestling brood, 



And decks the flow'ret with its varied dye ; 



Nor, in His presence, had she cause to sigh 

 For the vain pageants of delusive mirth ; 



Trained to uplift her soul, in musing high, 

 From this dark vale of wretchedness and dearth, 

 Aloft, above the stars, where angels have their birth. 

 " Well had she need ! a scaffold was the path 



To that abode her soul had often sought ; 

 Scarce crowned before the stormiest clouds of wrath 



Rolled o'er her head, with scathing ruin fraught. 



Alas, for human greatness ! it is nought ! 

 And nought she found it, save a deadly snare, 



Enchantment, by the evil genii wrought, 

 Whose diadems conceal the brow of care ; 

 Whose tissued robes display a lustre false, as fair. 



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