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Equinox I (04).pdf

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36<br />

THE HIGH HISTORY OF GOOD<br />

But plucking up his will, doth launch<br />

A mighty poison-dippèd dart:<br />

It fareth ever sure and staunch,<br />

And smiteth him upon the haunch.<br />

Then as Sir Palamede overhauls<br />

The stricken quarry, slack it droops,<br />

Staggers, and final down it falls.<br />

Triumph! Gape wide, ye golden walls!<br />

Lift up your everlasting doors,<br />

O gates of Camelot! See, he swoops<br />

Down on the prey! The life-blood pours:<br />

The poison works: the breath implores<br />

Its livelong debt from heart and brain.<br />

Alas! poor stag, thy day is done!<br />

The gallant lungs gasp loud in vain:<br />

Thy life is spilt upon the plain.<br />

Sir Palamede is stricken numb<br />

As one who, gazing on the sun,<br />

Sees blackness gather. Blank and dumb,<br />

The good knight sees a thin breath come<br />

Out of his proper mouth, and dart<br />

Over the plain: he seeth it<br />

Sure by some black magician art<br />

Shape ever closer like an hart:

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