XXX


       Thus ceas’d she: and the mountain shepherds came,
       Their garlands sere, their magic mantles rent;
       The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame
       Over his living head like Heaven is bent,
       An early but enduring monument,
       Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song
       In sorrow; from her wilds Ierne sent
       The sweetest lyrist of her saddest wrong,
And Love taught Grief to fall like music from his tongue.

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