SIR ANASTASIUS
She let him seek a desperate death,
She dies by the same sword.
She dies by the same sword.
One lady, of all that company,
Is white as the vision there,
In the crimson gown that she has on,
Is her pale face wondrous fair.
Is white as the vision there,
In the crimson gown that she has on,
Is her pale face wondrous fair.
She has risen up from the table-board,
And never a word said she.
But the priest has join'd two silent hands;
Anastasius turns to her where she stands,
And a kiss of her lips has he.
And never a word said she.
But the priest has join'd two silent hands;
Anastasius turns to her where she stands,
And a kiss of her lips has he.
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