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MIXED METRES. 65
And scarcely had he spoke it, When she, more enraged as more angry she grew, By a negligent rage proved the maxim too true:
She dropt the eye and broke it.
The concluding specimens of mixed metres from Dry den's Alexander's Feast\ Tennyson's Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington, and The Sisters furnish illustrations of still greater complexity.
Soothed with the sound the king grew vain, Fought all his battles o'er again, And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain, The master saw the madness rise, His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; And when he heaven and earth defied, Changed his hand and checked his pride.
He chose a mournful muse,
Soft pity to infuse : He sang Darius great and good,
By too severe a fate,
Fall'n, fall'n, fall'n, fall'n,
Fallen from his high estate, And weltering in his blood.
O divine light! Through the cloud that roofs our noon with night,
Through the blotting mist, the blinding showers, Far from out a sky for ever bright, Over all the woodland's flooded bowers, Over all the meadows drowning flowers, Over all this ruined world of ours, Break, divine light 1