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XII.

But mark—the rainbow hangs from hill to hill,
Arching the vale that stretches wide below;
Forming one vast, magnificent cascade.
Emblem of rank, of glory, and of fame,
It strikes the eye, and glitters for a time,
And then is lost for ever and for ever!
Now the gray clouds in fiery ramparts rise;

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Now like wide rivers rolling in the sky;
And now like abbeys, castles, domes and towers,
Rock, glens, and mountains—visions of the air!
Visions like those a heart, well fashion'd, sees,
When in the outlines of a smiling face
It reads a vow, and thinks the heart sincere!