The bridal of Vaumond A Metrical Romance |
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The bridal of Vaumond | ||
X.
Still a low murmuring seem'd to riseThat iron cavern through—
Notes caught the warrior with surprise
Of language that he knew;
It was of Sicily—but ne'er
Such tones before did mortal hear;
Such voices ne'er his native tongue
To such a fearful descant sung.
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Still, still that pæan wild he heard.
The bridal of Vaumond | ||