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LADY JANE GREY. 107
Dwells Draco's soul beneath a woman's mien ? Must guileless youth and peerless beauty bleed ?
Away ! Away ! I will not see the deed ! Fresh drops of crimson stain the new-fall'n snow, The wintry winds wail fitfully and low ; But the meek victim is not there, Far from this troubled scene, High o'er the tyrant queen, She finds that crown which from her brow No envious hand may tear.
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