VI.
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he sate upon the galley’s prow,And seemed to mark the waves below;Nay, seemed, so fixed her look and eye,To count them as they glided by.She saw them not—’twas seeming all—Far other scene her thoughts recall—A sun-scorched desert, waste and bare,Nor waves nor breezes murmured there;There saw she, where some careless handO’er a dead corpse had heaped the sand,To hide it till the jackals come,To tear it from the scanty tomb.See what a woful look was given,As she raised up her eyes to heaven!
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