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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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XLI.

To ev'ry mortal ill resign'd
Was the fair captive's dauntless mind;
Nor trial by her brother worm,
Nor death could shake her purpose firm:
Trial nor death were hers!
Eight weary days had roll'd away,
When, with the beams of morning gay,
Came an arm'd band: their lovely prey
Deem'd them her murderers.
They led her thro' the crowded street,
They plac'd her on a platform high,

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And curses the poor maiden greet,
And hatred lours in ev'ry eye;
Yet is not that fair wretch to die,
For death were pity's sweetest meed!
And now the herald's deep-ton'd cry
Proclaims the culprit's murd'rous deed;
And now the sentence in her ear
Rings in loud accents sadly clear.