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THE SILVER CHALICE.

She bow'd her head;

And all the sudden tremor of death came on her,

That she should die, and unforgiven by him.

But, weeping, she glanc'd sidewise at the king,

And saw his white lips - thro' her tears or his -

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Quiver in the mortal agony of despair.

Then from his seat spake Tristram: "Father, thou said'st

That for my sake the Queen is put to death.

My life lay in the course of her revenge,

That did not reach 't; therefore her life is mine.

I pray thee give it me."

The mute King bow'd

A stern gray head; but veil'd his eyes for tears.

With light foot beating down the dusty grass,

A color, the shame of youth at act, his face

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