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The rolling mist came down and hid the land:
And never home came she.

"Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair A tress of golden hair,

A drowned maiden's hair
Above the nets at sea?

Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
Among the stakes on Dee."

They rowed her in across the rolling foam,

The cruel crawling foam,

The cruel hungry foam,

To her grave beside the sea:

But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home

Across the sands of Dee.

CHARLES KINGSLEY

AND SHALL TRELAWNY DIE?

A GOOD Sword and a trusty hand!
A merry heart and true!

King James's men shall understand
What Cornish lads can do.

And have they fixed the where and when?
And shall Trelawny die?

Here's twenty thousand Cornish men
Will know the reason why!

Out spake their captain brave and bold,
A merry wight was he:

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