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The bridal of Vaumond

A Metrical Romance

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VI.

He leaps the pass—and terrible
The yielding ruin whelming fell
Headlong into the lake;

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His footstep slips, that wild shore gain'd;—
Despair its energies retain'd,
High o'er the abyss a black crag jutting
By chance he caught—his eyelids shutting—
He felt that fragment quake;
He hangs above that fiery sea—
That trembling stone alone may be
His saviour in his jeopardy!
But 'twas a grasp of agony
That had from its time-rooted bed
Ætna's proud chesnut borne!
One mad'ning spring the warrior made—
Forth was the fragment torn!—