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47


Pass'd o'er the careless city, but in vain!
When the dread curse came down, and one alone
Liv'd (fearful life!) in the sad solitude.
I've hung on the strange witchery, till I've deem'd
The bright creations visible, and seen
Th' enchanted palaces before me rise:
A few brief moments, and how chang'd the scene!
The song is broken off, the shatter'd lute
Spends its last breath in dying murmurings,
Lost in the clang of arms; the fountain wave
Is red with gore, its crystal beauty gone ;
And flowers, trodden on the blood-stain'd earth,
Shed their last odorous sigh upon the dead;
While she, their fairy mistress, captive now,
Is pale and senseless in yon warrior's arm!