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Jacinta! (still no answer)
Here 's a far sterner story,
But like--oh, very like in its despair--
Of that Egyptian queen, winning so easily
A thousand hearts--losing at length her own.
She died. Thus endeth the history--and her maids
Lean over and weep--two gentle maids
With gentle names--Eiros and Charmion!
Rainbow and Dove!----Jacinta!
Jac. (pettishly.) Madam, what is it?
Lal. Wilt thou, my good Jacinta, be so kind
As go down in the library and bring me
The Holy Evangelists.
Jac. Pshaw! (exit.)
Lal. If there be balm
For the wounded spirit in Gilead it is there!
Dew in the night time of my bitter trouble
Will there be found--"dew sweeter far than that
Which hangs like chains of pearl on Hermon hill."
(
re-enter Jacinta, and throws a volume on the table.)
There, ma'am, 's the book. Indeed she is very troublesome. (aside.)
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