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She sleeps on isles of velvet verdure, placed Midst sandy gulphs and shoals for ever waste ; She guides her countless flocks to cherish'd rills. And feeds her cattle on a thousand hills ; Her steps the wild bees welcome through the vale, From every blossom that embalms the gale ; The slow unwieldy river-horse she leads Through the deep waters, o*er the pasturing meads ; And climbs the mountains that invade the sky, To sooth the eagle's nestlings when they cry. At sun- set, when voracious monsters burst From dreams of blood, awaked by maddering thirst ; When the lorn caves, in which they shrunk from light, Ring with wild echoes through the hideous night ; When darkness seems alive, and all the air Is one tremendous uproar of despair, Horror and agony ; — on her they call ; She hears their clamour, she provides for all, Leads the light leopard on his eager way, ^ And goads the gaunt hyaena to his prey.
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