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Neared was the forest, the mighty tree-trunks
Greeting bestowed;
Roofing them over, shadows about them,
Murmuring peace.
Here embraced he the fair one closely,
Clasped to his breast!
Tore she away from him, breaking out in
Bitterest tears,
Hands appealing
She lifted to heaven.
“Power hast thou to work thy will,
But all thou gainest
Is like my father to strike me down,
Only my loss,
Little by little, and tear upon tear,
Only my grief,
Silently melting my life like snow,
Sigh upon sigh,
Until the last of them
In the sand is blotted.”
“Speak not thus, come, rest thee upon me,
Think how for thee
Kindly I’ll care, in my arms protect thee,
Even as now,
All through thy life, to the burial-grove
Where we shall be laid.
Ne’er did I plead, nor now am I pleading,
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