| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - We saw thee, O stranger, and wept!We look would for the youth of the sunny glance,Whose step was the fleetest in chase or dance!The light of his eye was a joy to see,The path of his arrows a storm to flee!But there came a voice from a distant shore:He was call'd-he is found 'midst his tribe no more!He is not in his place when the night-fires burn,But we look for him still-he will yet return!-His broth
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