XLII

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XLII

And they are gone: aye, ages long ago

These lovers fled away into the storm.

That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,

And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form

Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm,

Were long be-nightmared. Angela the old

Died palsy-twitch’d, with meagre face deform:

The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,

For aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold.