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eath of good Sir Eustace! He has come to claim his right: Ancient castle, woods, and mountains Hear the challenge with delight. Hubert! though the blast be blown, He is helpless and alone: Thou hast a dungeon, speak the word! And there he may be lodged, and thou be lord! Speak!--astounded Hubert cannot; And, if power to speak he had, All are daunted, all the household Smitten to the heart and sad. 'Tis Sir Eustace; if it be Living man it must be he! Thus Hubert thought in his dismay, And by a postern-gate he slunk away. Long and long was he unheard of: To his brother then he came, Made confession, asked forgiveness, Asked it by a brother's name, And by all the saints in heaven; And of Eustace was forgiven: Then in a convent went to hide His melancholy head, and there he died. But Sir Eustace, whom good angels Had preserved from murderers' hands, And from pagan chains had rescued, Lived with honour on his lands. Sons he had, saw sons of theirs: And through ages, heirs of heirs, A long posterity renowned Sounded the horn which they alone could sound. THE MIRACLE OF THE ROSES. BY ROBERT SOUTHEY. There dwelt in Bethlehem a Jewish maid, And Zillah was her name, so passing fair That all Judea spake the virgin's praise. He who had seen her eyes' dark radiance, How it revealed her soul, and what a soul Beamed in the mild effulgence, woe to him! For not in solitude, for not in crowds, Might he escape remembrance, nor avoid Her imaged form, which followed everywhere, And filled the heart, and fixed the absent eye. Alas for him! her bosom owned no love Save the strong ardour of religious zeal; For Zillah upon heaven had centred all Her spirit's deep affections. So for her Her tribe's men sighed in vain, yet reverenced The obdurate virtue that destroy'd their hopes. One man there was, a vain and wretched man, Who saw, desired, despaired, and hated her: His sensual eye had gloated on her cheek E'en till the flush of angry modesty Gave it new charms, and made him gloat the more. She loathed the man, for Hamuel's eye was bold,
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