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42
ONCE A WEEK.
[July 2, 1864.

Plunge through the night,
Three corpses glare up
At the steely moonlight,
From a bed of leaves,
Where the dark red stains
Are deeper than run
In leaflets' veins;
Music and song, like victims borne
At wild horses' heels, in shreds are torn,
And a spectre is come that spot to claim,
And give it for ever his dreadful name;
Shattered and bare
May lightnings tear
Every root in thy soil, every branch in the air,
As murderers' bones on the wheel are broke,
Be snapped every joint of thy trait'rous oak,
Down with Coed Grono, nothing spare,
Curses come thick, and unhallow all there,
Save the one spot where lie,
Waiting Eternity,
The bones of the Norman, Richard De Clare.

C. H. W.