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With duller steel than the Perséan sword

      They cut away no formless monster's head,

But one, whose gentleness did well accord

      With death, as life. The ancient harps have said,

Love never dies, but lives, immortal Lord:

      If Love impersonate was ever dead,

Pale Isabella kiss'd it, and low moan'd.

'T was love; cold,—dead indeed, but not dethron'd.