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Narrative poems on the Female Character

in the various relations of life. By Mary Russell Mitford ... Vol. I
  

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XXXVI.

High rode the sun: to the green wood
The King their flow'ry steps pursued:
He listen'd for some sportive bound,
For childish laugh, or frolic glee;
He thought behind each shelter'd mound
His rosy Ferdinand to see;

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He wander'd full of hope and joy;—
What was that low heart-piercing sound?
What was that form upon the ground?
It was his dying boy!
His face with death's pale stamp imprest,
A barbed arrow in his breast,
In Blanch's arms the Infant lay;
His closing eyes on her were fix'd,
With looks where pain and fondness mix'd,
And his faint moans her hand transfix'd,
When she would draw the dart away.