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If such thou lovest-love her then no more,
Or give-like her-caresses to a score ;
Her mind with these is gone, and with it go
The little left behind it to bestow.

But ye—who never felt a single thought
For what our morals are to be, or ought;
Who wisely wish the charms you view to reap,
Say-would you make those beauties quite so

Hot from the hands promiscuously applied,
Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side,
Where were the rapture then to clasp the form,
From this lewd grasp and lawless contact warm?
At once love's most endearing thought resign,
To press the hand so press'd by none but thine ;
To gaze upon that eye which never mot
Another's ardent look without regret ;
Approach the lip which all, without restraint,
Come near enough—if not to touch-to taint;

Voluptuous Waltz! and dare I thus blaspheme?
Thy bard forgot thy praises were his theme.
Terpsichore, forgive !-at every ball
My wife now waltzes-and my daughters shall;
My son—(or stop— 'tis needless to inquire-
These little accidents should ne'er transpire ;
Some ages hence our genealogic tree
Will wear as green a bough for him as me) –
Waltzing shall rear, to make our name amends,
Grandsons for me-in heirs to all his friends.


“ Expende Annibalem :-quot libras in duce summo
Invenies ?"

JUVENAL, Sat. x.? “The Emperor Nepos was acknowledged by the Senate, by the Italians, and by the Provincials of Gaul ; his moral virtues, and military talents, were loudly celebrated ; and those who derived any private benefit from his gorerngent announced in prophetic strains the restoration of public felicity.

By this shameful abdication, he protracted his life a few years, in a very ambiguous state, between an Emperor and an Exile, till ."--GIBBON's Decline and Fall, vol. vi. p. 220.3

Nor till thy fall could mortals guess
Ambition's less than littleness!

'Tis done but yesterday a King !

And arm'd with Kings to strive
And now thou art a nameless thing:

So abject-yet alive!
Is this the man of thousand thrones,
Who strew'd our earth with hostile bones,

And can he thus survive ?"
Since he, miscallid the Morning Star,
Nor man nor fiend hath fallen so far.

Thanks for that lesson-it will teach

To after-warriors more,
Than high Philosophy can preach,

And vainly preach'd before.
That spell upon the minds of men
Breaks never to unite again,

That led them to adore
Those Pagod things of sabre sway,
With fronts of brass, and feet of clay.

Ill-minded man! why scourge thy kind

Who bow'd so low the knee?
By gazing on thyself grown blind,

Thou taught'st the rest to see.
With might unquestion d,-power to save,-
Thine only gift hath been the grave,

To those that worshipp'd thee;

The triumph, and the vanity,

The rapture of the strife
The earthquake voice of Victory,

To thee the breath of life;

| [The reader has seen that Lord Byron, when publishing was smooth, and the whole body visible." Wonderful to re“ The Corsair," in January, 1811, announced an apparently late, he found the whole did not exceed in weight one once quite serious resolution to withdraw, for some years at and a half! AND IS THIS ALL! Alas! the quo: libres itself least, from poetry. His letters of the February and March is a satirical exaggeration.--GIFFORD.) following abound in repetitions of the same determination.

3 ["I send you an additional motto from Gibbon, which On the morning of the ninth of April, he writes,-"no more rhyme for-or rather from--me. I have taken my leave of

you will find singularly appropriate."- Lord Byron to Vs. that stage, and henceforth will mountebank it no longer." Murray, April 12, 1814.) In the evening, a Gazette Extraordinary announced the ab 4"I don't know--but I think I, even 1. (an insect cor dication of Fontainebleau, and the Poet violated his vows pared with this creature,, have set my life on casts not a next morning, by composing this Oue, which he immediately millionth part of this man's. But, after all, a crown may published, though without his name. His Diary says, “ Apríl not be worth dying for. Yet, to outlive Lod: for this!!! Oh 10. To-day I have boxed one hour--written an ode to Na. that Juvenal or Johnson could rise from the dead! • Ex. poleon Bonaparte--copied it-eaten six biscuits-drunk four pende-quot libras in duce summo invenies ?'

I knew they bottles of soda water, and redde away the rest of my time."] were light in the balance of mortality; but I thought ther [Produce the urn that Hannibal contains,

living dust weighed more carats. Alas! this imperial And weigh the inighty dust which yet remains :

diamond hath a flaw in it, and is now hardly fit to stick in a AND IS THIS ALL!"

glazier's pencil ;-the pen of the historian won't rate it worth I know not that this was ever done in the old world; at least, give him up even now; though all his admirers bare, ike

a ducat. Psha! 'something too much of this.' But I won't with regard to Hannibal: but, in the statistical account of

the Thanes, fallen from him."--- Byron Diary, April 9.) Scotland, I find ihat Sir John Paterson had the curiosity to collect, and weigh, the ashes of a person discovered a few 5" Certaminis gaudia"--the expression of Attila in his years since in the parish of Eccles; which he was happily harangue to his army, previous io the baule of Chalons, enabled to do with great facility, as "the inside of the coffin given in Cassiodorus.

The sword, the sceptre, and that sway
Which man seem'd made but to obey,

Wherewith renown was rife-
Al quell'd-Dark Spirit! what must be
The madness of thy memory!

Too late thou leav'st the high command

To which thy weakness clung ;
All Evil Spirit as thou art,
It is enough to grieve the heart

To see thine own unstrung ;
To think that God's fair world hath been
The footstool of a thing so mean;


The Desolator desolate!

The Victor overthrown!
The Arbiter of others' fate

A Suppliant for his own!
Is it some yet imperial hope,
That with such change can calmly cope ?

Or dread of death alone?
To die a prince-or live a slave-
Thy choice is most ignobly brave !
He who of old would rend the oak,

Dream'd not of the rebound;
Chain'd by the trunk he vainly broke-

Alone-how look'd he round?
Thou, in the sternness of thy strength,
An equal deed hast done at length,

And darker fate hast found:
He fell, the forest prowlers' prey;
But thou must eat thy heart away!

And Earth hath spilt her blood for him,

Who thus can hoard his own!
And Monarchs bow'd the trembling limb,

And thank'd him for a throne !
Fair Freedom! we may hold thee dear,
When thus thy mightiest foes their fear

In humblest guise have shown.
Oh! ne'er may tyrant leave behind
A brighter name to lure mankind!

Thine evil deeds are writ in gore,

Nor written thus in vain-
Thy triumphs tell of fame no more,

Or deepen every stain :
If thou hadst died as honor dies,
Some new Napoleon might arise,

To shame the world again-
But who would soar the solar height,
To set in such a starless night ?

The Roman,” when his burning heart

Was slaked with blood of Rome,
Threw down the dagger-dared depart,

In savage grandeur, home-
He dared depart in utter scorn
Of men that such a yoke had borne,

Yet left him such a doom!
His only glory was that hour
Of self-upheld abandon’d power.
The Spaniard, when the lust of sway

Had lost its quickening spell,'
Cast crowns for rosaries away,

An empire for a cell;
A strict accountant of his beads,
A subtle disputant on creeds,

His dotage trifled well :*
Yet better had he neither known
A bigot's shrine, nor despot's throne.”
But thou-from thy reluctant hand

The thunderbolt is wrung

Weigh'd in the balance, hero dust

Is vile as vulgar clay ;
Thy scales, Mortality are just

To all that pass away:
But yet methought the living great
Some higher sparks should animate,

To dazzle and dismay:
Nor deern'd Contempt could thus make mirth
Of these, the Conquerors of the earth.

And she, proud Austria's mournful flower,

Thy still imperial bride ;
How bears her breast the torturing hour?

Still clings she to thy side ?
Must she too bend, must she too share
Thy late repentance, long despair,

Thou throneless Homicide?
If still she loves thee, hoard that gem;
"Tis worth thy vanish'd diadem!

??** Out of town six days. On my return, find my poor Ferdinand, and the kingdom of Spain, to his son Philip, little pagod, Napoleon, pushed off his pedestal. It is his and retired to a monastery in Estremadura, where he conown fault, Like Milo, he would rend the oak; but it closed formed, in his manner of living, to all the rigor of monastic again, wedgei his hands, and now the beasts--lion, bear, austerity. Not satisfied with this, he dressed himself in his down to the dirtiest jackal--may all tear him. That Mus shroud, was laid in his coffin with much solemnity, joined conite winter wedged his arms:-ever since, he has fought in the prayers which were offered up for the rest of his with his feet and teeth. The last may still leave their soul, and mingled his tears with those which his attendants marks: and I guess now,' (as the Yankees say,) that he shed, as if they had been celebrating a real funeral.] will yet play them a pass."Byron Diary, April 8.]

6("I looked into Lord Kaimes's Sketches of the History * Sylla.-(We find the germ of this stanza in the Diary of of Man,' and mentioned to Dr. Johnson his censure of the evening before it was written :-- Methinks Sylla did Charles the Fifth for celebrating his funeral obsequies in better ; for he revenged, and resigned in the height of his his lifetime, which, I told him, I had been used to think a sway, red with the slaughter of his foes--the finest instance solemn and affecting act. JOHNSON : Why, Sir, a man of glorious contempt of the rascals upon record. Diocle may dispose his mind to think so of that aci of Charles; man did well too-Amurath not amiss, had he become but it is so liable to ridicule, that if one man out of ten aught except a dervise--Charles the Fifth but so so : but thousand laughs at it, he'll make the other nine thousand Napoleon worst of all."--Byron Drary, April 9.)

nine hundred and ninety-nine laugh too.'- Boswell's :{"Alter .potent spell' to quickening spell:' the first (as Johnson, vol. vii. p. 78, ed. 1835.] Polonius says) is a vile phrase,' and means nothing, be

(" But who would rise in brightest day sides being commonplace and Rosa-Matildaish. After the

To set without one parting ray?"---MS.) resolution of not publishing, though our Ode is a thing of

? [It is well known that Count Neipperg, a gentleman in little length and less consequence, it will be better altogether that it is anonymous.”Lord Byron to Mr. Murray, sented to Maria Louisa within a few days after Napoleon's

the suite of the Emperor of Austria, who was first preApril 11.)

abdication, became, in the sequel, her chamberlain, and * [Charles the Fifth, Emperor of Germany, and King of then her husband. He is said to have been a man of reSpain, resigned, in 1555, his imperial crown to his brother markably plain appearance. The Count died in 1831.]

Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle,

And gaze upon the sea ;
That element may meet thy smile

It ne'er was ruled by thee!
Or trace with thine all idle hand,
In loitering mood upon the sand,

That Earth is now as free!
That Corinth's pedagogue' hath now
Transferr'd his by-word to thy brow.
Thou Timour! in his captive's cage

What thoughts will there be thine,
While brooding in thy prison'd rage?

But one-" The world was mine!"
Unless, like he of Babylon,
All sense is with thy sceptre gone,

Life will not long confine
That spirit pour’d so widely forth-
So long oboy'd-so little worth !

There was a day-there was an hour,

While earth was Gaul's-Gaul thine-
When that immeasurable power

Unsated to resign
Had been an act of purer fame,
Than gathers round Marengo's name,

And gilded thy decline,
Through the long twilight of all time,
Despite some passing clouds of crime.
But thou forsooth must be a king,

And don the purple vest, —
As if that foolish robe could wring

Remembrance from thy breast.
Where is that faded garment? where
The gewgaws thou wert fond to wear,

The star-the string—the crest ?
Vain froward child of empire ! say,
Are all thy playthings snatch'd away?
Where may the wearied eye repose,

When gazing on the Great ;
Where neither guilty glory glows,

Nor despicable state?
Yes-one-the first-the last-the best-
The Cincinnatus of the West,

Whom envy dared not hate,
Bequeath the name of Washington,
To make man blush there was but One!

Or, like the thief of fire from heaven,

Wilt thou withstand the sbock?
And share with him, the unforgiven,

His vulture and his rock!
Foredoom'd by God-by man accursed,"
And that last act, though not thy worst,

The very Fiend's arch mock ;;
Ho in his fall preserved his pride,
And, if a mortal, had as proudly died !


? (Dionysius the Younger, esteemed a greater tyrant power by Augustus, the thing was already settled. If he than his father, on being for the second time banished from had given it up-the commonwealth was gone-the republic Syracuse, retired to Corinth, where he was obliged to turn was long past all resuscitation. Had Brutus and Cassius schoolmaster for a subsistence.)

gained the battle of Philippi, it would not hare restored ? The cage of Bajazet, by order of Tamerlane.

the republic. Its days ended with the Gracchi ; the rest 3 Prometheus.

was a mere struggle of parties. You might as well cure &

consumption, or restore a broken egg, as revive a state so + [In first draught

long a prey to every uppermost soldier, as Rome had long ** He suffer'd for kind acts to men,

been. As for a despotism, if Augustus could have been sure Who have not seen his like again,

that all his successors would have been like himseil-I At least of kingly stock ;

mean not as Octavius, but Augustus)-or Napoleon could Since he was good, and thou but great,

have insured the world that none of his successors would Thou canst not quarrel with thy fate.”j

have been like himself-the ancient or modern world night

have gone on, like the empire of China, in a state of - "The very fiend's arch mock

lethargic prosperity. Suppose, for instance, that, instead To lip a wanton, and suppose her chaste."

of Tiberius and Caligula, Augustus had been immediately

SHAKSPEARE. succeeded by Nerva, Trajan, the Antonines, or even by [We believe there is no doubt of the truth of the anecdote Titus and his father--whát a difference in our estimate of here alluded to--of Napoleon's having found leisure for an himself !-So far from gaining by the contrast, I think that unworthy amour, the very evening of his arrival at Fon one-half of our dislike arises from his having been heired by tainebleau.)

Tiberius--and one-half of Julius Ca-sar's fame, from his [The three last stanzas, which Lord Byron had been so

having had his empire consolidated by Angustus. -Sup. licited by Mr. Murray to write, in order to avoid the stamp

pose that there had been no Octavius, and Tiberius had duty then imposed upon publications not exceeding a sheei,

* jumped the life' between, and at once succeeded Julius?were not published with the rest of the poem. "I don't

And yet it is difficult to say whether hereditary right or

The like them at all,” says Lord Byron, "and they had better popular choice produce the worser sovereigos be left out. The fact is, I can't do any thing I am asked to

Roman Consuls make a goodly show ; but then they only do, however gladly I would ; and at the end of a week my

reigned for a year, and were under a sort of personai obie interest in a composition goes off.")

gation to distinguish themselves. It is still more difficult to

say which form of government is the worsi--all are so ?[In one of Lord Byron's MS. Diaries, begun at Ravenna bad. As for democracy, it is the worst of the w bole ; for in May, 1821, we find the following :-"What shall I write ? -another Journal? I think not. Any thing that comes up guards.")

what is, in fact, democracy }--an aristocracy of blackpermost, and call it

* [On being reminded by a friend of his recent promise “My Dictionary.

not to write any more for years—". There was," repiled “ Augustus.-I have often been puzzled with his charac Lord Byron, “a mental reservation in my pact with the ter. Was he a great man ? Assuredly. But not one of my public, in behalf of anonymes ; and, even had ihere not, the GREAT men. I have always looked upon Sylla as the provocation was such as to make it physically imposable to greatest character in history, for laying down his power at pass over this epoch of triumphani tameness. Tis a sad ihe moment when it was

business; and after all, I shall think higher of rhyme and * Too great to keep or to resign,'

reason, and very humbly of your heroic people, últ-E

becomes a volcano, and sends him out again. I can't think 14 w and thus despising them all. As to the retention of his all over yet.")

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Which Music hallow'd while she wept

O’er tones her heart of hearts had given, The subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend, the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird, for a Selec. It soften’d men of iron mould,

Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven! tion of Hebrew Melodies, and have been published, with the music, arranged by Mr. Braham and Mr. No ear so dull, no soul so cold,

It gave them virtues not their own; Nathan.

That felt not, fired not to the tone, January, 1815.

Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne !

It told the triumphs of our King,

It wafted glory to our God!

It made our gladden'd valleys ring, Sue walks in beauty, like the night

The cedars bow, the mountains nod; Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

Its sound aspired to Heaven and there abode !5 And all that's best of dark and bright

Since then, though heard on earth no more, Meet in her aspect and her eyes :

Devotion and her daughter Love, Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Still bid the bursting spirit soar Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

To sounds that seem as from above,

In dreams that day's broad light can not remove. One shade the more, ove ray the loss,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace,
Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

If that high world, which lies beyond
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

Our own, surviving Love endears ;

If there the cherish'd heart be fond, And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

The eye the same, except in tearsSo sost, so calm, yet eloquent,

How welcome those untrodden spheres ! The stuiles that win, the tints that glow,

How sweet this very hour to die ! But tell of days in goodness spent,

To soar from earth and find all fears, A mind at peace with all below,

Lost in thy light-Eternity! A heart whose love is innocent!

It must be so : 'tis not for self

That we so tremble on the brink;
And striving to o'erleap the gulf,

Yet cling to Being's severing link.

Oh! in that future let us think

To hold each heart the heart that shares; Tre harp the monarch minstrel swept,

With them the immortal waters drink, The King of men, the loved of Heaven,

And soul in soul grow deathless theirs !

(Lord Byron never alludes to his share in these Melo rifice, and worship of the ark; as well as by being cultivated dies with complacency. Mr. Moore having, on one occa by a king."-BURNEY.] ston, rallied him a little on the manner in which some of der had been set to music,- Sunburn Nathan," he ex

57" When Lord Byron put the manuscript into my hand,

it terminated with this line. As this, however, did not comclans," why do you always lwit me with his Ebrew nabahes! Have I not told you it was all Kinnaird's doing,

plete the verse, I wished him to help out the melody. He al my own exquisite lacinty of temper ?")

replied, “Why, I have sent you to heaven-it would be dif

ficult to go further ! My attention for a few minutes was *(" Neither the ancient Jews," says Dr. Burney, " nor called to some other person, and his Lordship, whom I had the modern, have ever had characters peculiar to music ; | hardly missed, exclaimed, . Here, Nathan, I have brought w that the melodies used in their religious ceremonies have, you down again ;' and immediately presented me the beaual all times, been traditional, and at the mercy of the sing iiful lines which conclude the melody."--NATHAN.] ert "Kalkbrenner tells us, that " les Juifs Espagnols lisent chantent leurs pseanmes bien differemment que les Juifs

[The hymns of David excel no less in sublimity and tenHollandais, les Juifs Romains autrement que les Juifs de la

derness of expression, than in loftiness and purity of religious Busse et de la Heese ; et tous croient chanter comme on

sentiment. In comparison with them, the sacred poetry of all chantait dans le Temple de Jerusalem !”Hist. de la Musique, exquisitely the universal language of religious emotion, that

other nations sinks into mediocrity. They have embodied so tom. i. p. 34.]

(a few fierce and vindictive passages excepted, natural in the *These stanzas were written by Lord Byron, on return. ina from a ball-room, where he had seen Mrs. (now Lady) questionable propriety, into the Christian ritual. The songs

warrior-poet of a sterner age) they have entered, with unWilmotllorton, ihe wife of his relation, the present Governor which cheered the solitude of the desert caves of Engedi, of Ceyloa, On this occasion Mrs. Wilnot Horton had ap

or resounded from the voice of the Hebrew people as they Laulud in inourning, with numerous spangles on her dress.)

wound along the glens or the hill-sides of Judea, have been *** In the reign of King David, music was held in the repeated for ages in almost every part of the habitable hent estimation by the Hebrews. The genius of that world,-in the remotest islands of the ocean, amongst the

ncr for music, and his attachment to the study and prac forests of America, or the sands of Africa. How many hue of it, as well its the great number of inusicians appoint man hearts have they softened, purified, exalted !--of how s175 bin for the performance of religious rites and cere. many wretched beings have they been the secret consolation ! runsne, could not fail to extend its influence and augment -on how many communities have they drawn down the is perfecuon* ; for it was during this period, that music blessings of Divine Providence, by bringing the affections was first honored by being admitted in the ministry of sac in unison with their deep devotional fervor!-Milman.)

The wild gazelle on Judah's hills

Exulting yet may bound,
And drink from all the living rills

That gush on holy ground;
Its airy step and glorious eye
May glance in tameless transport by:-
A step as fleet, an eye moro bright,

Hath Judah witness'd there;
And o'er her scenes of lost delight

Inhabitants more fair. The cedars wave on Lebanon, But Judah's statelier maids are gone! More bless'd each palm that shades those plains

Than Israel's scatter'd race;
For, taking root, it there remains

In solitary grace:
It cannot quit its place of birth,
It will not live in other earth.
But we must wander witheringly,

In other lands to die;
And where our fathers' ashes be,

Our own may never lie:
Our temple hath not left a stone,
And Mockery sits on Salem's throne.

JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER.' SINCE our Country, our God-Oh, my sire! Demand that thy Daughter expire ; Since thy triumph was bought by thy vowStrike the bosom that's bared for thee now! And the voice of my mourning is o'er, And the mountains behold me no more: If the hand that I love lay me low, There cannot be pain in the blow ! And of this, oh, my Father! be sure That the blood of thy child is as pure As the blessing I beg ere it flow, And the last thought that soothes me below. Though the virgins of Salem lament, Be the judge and the hero unbent! I have won the great battle for thee, And my father and country are free! When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd, When the voice that thou lovest is hush'd, Let my memory still be thy pride, And forget not I smiled as I died !

OH! WEEP FOR THOSE. Oh! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream; Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell; [dwell! Mourn—where their God hath dwelt the Godless And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet? And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet? And Judah's melody once more rejoice The hearts that leap'd before its heavenly voice ? Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, How shall yo flee away and be at rest! The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, Mankind their country—Israel but the grave !


Oh! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;

But on thy turf shall roses rear

Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:
And oft by yon blue gushing stream

Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
And feed deep thought with inany a dream,

And lingering pause and lightly tread;

Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead! Away! we know that tears are vain,

That death nor heeds nor hears distress :
Will this unteach us to complain?

Or make one mourner weep the less ?
And thou—who tell’st me to forget,
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.

ON JORDAN'S BANKS. On Jordan's banks the Arab's camels stray, On Sion's hill the False One's votaries pray, The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steepYet there—even there—Oh God! thy thunders sleep: There-where thy finger scorch'd the tablet stone ! There-where thy shadow to thy people shone Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire : Thyself none living see and not expire ! Oh! in the lightning let thy glance appear; Sweep from his shiver'd hand the oppressor's spear: How long by tyrants shall thy land be trod! How long thy temple worshipless, Oh God!

MY SOUL IS DARK. My soul is dark-Oh! quickly string

The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers fling

Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear,

That sound shall charm it forth again : If in these eyes there lurk a tear,

'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain. But bid the strain be wild and deep,

Nor let thy notes of joy be first : I tell thee, minstrel, I musi weep,

Or else this heavy heart will burst;

1 [Jephtha, a bastard son of Gilead, having been wrongfully expelled from his father's house, had taken refuge in a wild country, and become a noted captain of freebooters. His kindred, groaning under foreign oppression, began to look to their valiant, though lawless coinpatriot, whose profession, according to their usage, was no more dishonorable than that of a pirate in the elder days of Greece. They sent for him, and made him head of their city. Before he went forth against the Ammonites, he made the memorable vow, that, if he returned victorious, he would sacrifice as a burnt

offering whatever first met him on his entrance into his native city. He gained a splendid victory. At the news of is, his only daughter came dancing forth, in the gladness of heart, and with jocund instruments of music, to salute ibe deliverer of his people. The miserable father rent his clothes in agony ; but the noble-spirited maiden would not bear of the disregard of the vow : she only demanded a short period to bewail upon the mountains, like the Anugone of Sopo cles, her dying without hope of becoming a bride or moines and then submitted to her fate.-Milman.)

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