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There came a form, a bright sword shaking,
And cut the chains, 'neath which my frame was aching:
A smiling form—it was the very knight
Whose wandering footsteps I directed right.
"And as he rent those heavy bonds in twain,
And freed my fetter'd feet—on high he rais'd
His hand of victory; and he plac'd a chain,
A golden chain, upon my neck—it blaz'd
Brightly as those which high-born dames, attending
At courts oft wear—but while that hand descending
Was clasping that gold chain, some power unknown
Rous'd me, and I was left to muse alone."
"See, then, young daughter! see, how proud and gay
Our great ones live—how beautiful and bright
Their course, and thus the wandering thoughts of day
Roll into steady shapes in dreams at night;
But let the years roll on, our fate controlling
They will bring peace at last, while onward rolling;
While they who follow meteors oft will stray,
And in the fens and fogs will lose their way.
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