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Constance De Castile

A Poem, in Ten Cantos. By William Sotheby

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XXIV.

But all in vain sad Ellen roves
By day, 'mid unfrequented groves;
In vain, by night, the mountain cave
To wearied Ellen refuge gave:
Vain her breath'd woe, her mute despair;
Pedro's stern guards have seiz'd the Fair,
And sever'd by the cloister pale,
Sad Ellen weeps beneath the veil.—