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| Books | Books |
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| Books | Books |
 ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her...  Annual Register - Page 808 edited by - 1803 Full view -
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