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CONTENTS.
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDAL
His aspect and his air impress'd
A troubled memory on my breast,
And long upon my startled ear
Rung his dark courser's hoofs of fear.
SAREPTA
LORD BYRON.
Sweeps his long arm that sabre's whirling sway;
Sheds fast atonement for its first delay;
Completes his fury what their fear begun;
And makes the many basely quail to one.
THE LIBERTINE'S BRIDE
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that,
And manage it against despairing thoughts.
SHAKSPEARE.
PAGE
1
17
131
THE DISSOLUTION OF THE WORLD
What if all
Her stores were open'd, and this firmament Of hell should spout her cataracts of fire, Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall One day upon our heads?
MILTON.
221
THE MYSTERIOUS BRIDAL.