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THE TASK OF THE WIERD SPIRIT IS DONE —THE CURTAIN OF FATE FALLS OVER THE TRAGEDY OF THE HOUSE OF ALBARONE.
  
  
  
  
  

THE TASK OF THE WIERD SPIRIT IS DONE
—THE CURTAIN OF FATE FALLS
OVER THE TRAGEDY OF THE
HOUSE OF ALBARONE.

Joy to Florence now, oh joy to the fair city in
her streets and thro' her lordly halls, joy to the
prince of the palace and the peasant of the cot,
joy to the mountain and the dell, joy to the hill
and the valley, joy to the silvery river, joy to the
homes of men, joy to the shrines of God, joy, joy,
forever joy!

The Duke, the people's Duke is come to reign!
Baptized by trial, chosen by the People, crowned
by the Invisible, anointed by God, he comes to
reign!

There are light voices filling the air, there are
soft steps tripping thro' the lordly halls, there are
costly draperies sweeping over marble floors, there
are strains of music awaking the echoes of ancient
domes, there are processions thronging the streets
in all the pomp of crucifix and banner, gallant
knights ride to and fro, shaking the glitter of their
snowy plumes aloft, the poor creep from their dens
of want, the mighty pour from their homes of pride,
the sordid miser forgets his money bags, the merchant
his wares of cost, the scholar his musty
book, the bravo his knife, the children of misery
their care, and all, aye all, come thronging to the
high Cathedral of Florence, where the solemn
priest wili, ere an hour, amid the glad shouts of
thousands, anoint Adrian Di Albarone, Lord Duke
of Florence, and crown his fair bride, the Ladye
Annabel, with the coronet for which Aldarin gave
his soul.

It is morning, glad and joyous morning, the
calm azure arches over the fair city, gorgeous with
temple-dome and palace tower while the gay parties
hasten to the grand Cathedral, anxious to behold
the Duke and his fair bride.