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Page 99 - Duncan is in his grave ; After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestick, foreign levy, nothing, Can touch him further!
Page 12 - But now will canker sorrow cut my bud, And chase the native beauty from his cheek ; And he will look as hollow as a ghost, As dim and meagre as an ague's fit, And so he'll die ; and rising so again, When I shall meet him in the court of heaven I shall not know him ; therefore, never, never Shall I behold my pretty Arthur more.
Page 2 - Tis sweet to hear At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep The song and oar of Adria's gondolier, By distance mellow'd, o'er the waters sweep; 'Tis sweet to see the evening star appear; 'Tis sweet to listen as the night-winds creep From leaf to leaf; 'tis sweet to view on high The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky.