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THE GOLDEN VIOLET.
Now strip me of my armour, boy, by yonder river's side,
Place firm this head upon my breast, and fling me on the tide."
That river wash'd his natal halls, its waters bore him on,
Till the moonlight on the hero in his father's presence shone.
The old chief to the body drew, his gallant boy was dead,
But his vow of vengeance had been kept, he bore Nourreddin’s head.
