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Unformatted text preview: All glorious in the eye of day, Dishonored slowly melts away, Trod down and trampled to the earth, Whene'er our dark-stoled troop advances, Whene'er our feet lead on the dismal dances. For light our footsteps are, And perfect is our might, Awful remembrances of guilt and crime, Implacable to mortal prayer, Far from the gods, unhonored, and heaven's light, We hold our voiceless dwellings dread, All unapproached by living or by dead. What mortal feels not awe, Nor trembles at our name, Hearing our fate-appointed power sublime, Fixed by the eternal law. For old our office, and our fame, Might never yet of its due honors fail, Though 'neath the earth our realm in unsunned regions pale. 1 Orestes...
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- Spring '08
- World Literature