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a ballad.
73
And his bosom answer'd ev'ry sigh
Heav'd by the evening gale.

His cheek was pale, and his princely eye
Was fill'd with memory's tears,
As he ponder'd on the destiny
Which flatter'd his early years;

He thought on the friends for him who died,
Yet was not that pang the worst;
He thought on friends who had left his side,
And felt as his heart would burst!

But he shudder'd, as in looking back
On the days forever lost,
Reflection 'mid the shadowy track
Met Strafford's headless ghost!