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Orval, or The Fool of Time

And Other Imitations and Paraphrases. By Robert Lytton

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 VIII. 
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 VIII. 
VIII.SLEEP AND DEATH.
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 XIII. 
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 XVIII. 
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399

VIII.SLEEP AND DEATH.

The morning is growing: the cocks are crowing:
Let me away, love, away!
'Tis not the morning light;
Only the moonbeam white.
Stay, my white lamb, stay,
And sleep on my bosom, sleep!
The breeze is blowing: the cattle are lowing:
Let me away, love, away!
'Tis not the cattle there;
Only the call to prayer.
Stay, my white lamb, stay,
And sleep on my bosom, sleep!
The Turks are warning to the mosk: 'tis morning!
Let me away, love, away!
'Tis not the Turks, sweet soul!
Only the wolves that howl.
Stay, my white lamb, stay,
And sleep on my bosom, sleep!
The white roofs are gleaming: the glad children screaming:
Let me away, love, away!

400

'Tis the night-clouds that gleam:
The night winds that scream.
Stay, my white lamb, stay,
And sleep on my bosom, sleep!
My mother in the gateway calls to me . . . “Come straightway!”
And I must away, love, away!
Thy mother's in her bed,
Dumb, holy, and dead.
Stay, my white lamb, stay,
And sleep on my bosom, sleep!