Oh, thou villain child of hell!
False a breath caressing!
None but those of high estate?
And drank his last life's-glow,--Then hurl'd the holy goblet
Burst them! I'll not repine.No noble friendWould stay his fellow-captive,If means of flight appear.
O THOU well-tried in grief,
From the flame with heav'nly grace,
On high His victor-banner blows;E'en angels at His fury quake,
Chain'd by a silk-thread at her feet.
And he lists, and ev'ry word he weighs,
Sweet one, without thee, what then were the dance?If thou my sweetheart wert not, I would dance not.
Thus speaking, the children with fear take to flight,When sudden an old man appears in their sight:
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