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The Legend of St. Loy

With Other Poems. By John Abraham Heraud
  
  

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XXV.

Thou hast return'd, O Almar old,
To life from that deep slumber cold!
Thy soul, winged unto former years,
—With pleasure marked, and many sears,

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That make the bliss e'en woe, — away
Returns to her abode of clay.
Ah! how unlike that Lady's state,
Conveyed, by too severe a fate,
Stiffened, and cold, and senseless still,
Upon that Robber's arm;
Subjected to his brutal will,
Bereft of every charm!
And 'tis of her their thoughts awake,
And this the form their musings take.