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Crushed and o'erworn,
The hours had drained her blood, and filled her brow
With lines and wrinkles.
With shuddering horror I veiled this monument of human passion and human
misery; I heaped over her all of flags and heavy accoutrements I could
find, to guard her from birds and beasts of prey, until I could bestow on
her a fitting grave. Sadly and slowly I stemmed my course from among the
heaps of slain, and, guided by the twinkling lights of the town, at length
reached Rodosto.
[
1] Lord Byron's Fourth Canto of Childe Harolde.
2] Shakspeare's Sonnets.
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