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_J_'s Avatar Jump to comment 5257 by _J_

Now entertain conjecture of a time
When creeping murmur and the poring dark
Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
...Oh now, who will behold
The royal captain of this ruined band
Walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent,
Let him cry 'Praise and glory on her head!'
For forth she goes and visits all her host,
Bids them good morrow with a modest smile,
And calls them brothers, friends and countrymen.
Upon her royal face there is no note
How dread an army hath enrounded her,
Nor doth she dedicate one jot of colour
Unto the weary and all-watched night,
But freshly looks and overbears attaint
With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty,
That every wretch, pining and pale before,
Beholding her plucks comfort from her looks.
A largess universal, like the sun,
Her liberal eye doth give to every one,
Thawing cold fear, that mean and gentle all
Behold, as may unworthiness define,
A little touch of Paula in the night.

Sun, 16 Mar 2008 17:36:00 UTC | #137362