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THE SILVER CHALICE.

Child thou shalt poison - or king. I do not know

What tempted thee? The devil tempted thee

And found thee apt - to play the cat, and toy

With the victim first . . . I will not speak with thee!

To-morrow shalt thou die. - I will not listen

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To womanish supplication. - Bear her hence

To the donjon! - I'll not hear thee! - Bear her hence!"

Hot breath blew thro' the summer's fever lips;

Dried was the dew from drooping-petall'd flower,

Sharp grass; nor ever leaf stirr'd; ceaseless plied

His loom the locust shrill; the far sky smokt.

. . . Drap'd in black samite was the chair of state

And the high dais whereon was set the King

And knights and Tristram; a multitude below

Swarm'd thro' the court like August flies, till prest

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