Ode on the Peace, An - Part 7
Pale as the livid corse her cheek,
Her tresses torn, her glances wild, — —
How fearful was her frantic shriek!
She wept — and then in horrors smil'd:
She gazes now with wild affright,
Lo! bleeding phantoms rush in sight —
Hark! on yon mangled form the mourner calls,
Then on the earth a senseless weight she falls.
Her tresses torn, her glances wild, — —
How fearful was her frantic shriek!
She wept — and then in horrors smil'd:
She gazes now with wild affright,
Lo! bleeding phantoms rush in sight —
Hark! on yon mangled form the mourner calls,
Then on the earth a senseless weight she falls.
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