VI

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VI

She trembled and grew deadly pale.

Or a swift meteor, may be,

Across the gloom of heaven would sail

And disappear in space; then she

Would haste in agitation dire

To mutter her concealed desire

Ere the bright messenger had set.

When in her walks abroad she met

A friar black approaching near,

Or a swift hare from mead to mead

Had run across her path at speed,

Wholly beside herself with fear,

Anticipating woe she pined,

Certain misfortune near opined.