SELECTIONS IN ENGLISH POETRY

—Long, long upon that cedarn-shadowed height

Musing, Asoka mingled with the night,

At last the moon sank o'er the forest wide.

Within his soul those fountains welled no more, 120

Yet breathed a balm still, fresh as fallen dew:

The mist coiled upward over Ganges shore;

And he arose and sighed,

And gathered his cloak round him, and anew

Threaded the deep woods to his palace door. 125

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