XXXI. ", Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest. In the retired quiet of the night, If a girl followed a certain ritual on the eve of St. Agnes (taking no supper, sleeping unclothed, looking only to heaven and never behind, placing her hands beneath her pillow) she would see a vision of her future husband in her dream. The sound of merriment and chorus bland: There was a painful change, that nigh expell'd alas! Emprison'd in black, purgatorial rails: Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe. XIII. The poem remains controversial, with some critics considering it one of Keats’s most romantic works and others asserting that Porphyro is in a sense “date-raping” Madeline. XXV. Like puzzled urchin on an aged crone Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith. I. But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe, And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form. For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee." Edition Notes Series Illuminated missal series. Now prepare, Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one; "—Thus plaining, doth she bring The Eve of St Agnes - Synopsis and commentary Synopsis of The Eve of St Agnes Stanzas 1 – 8. Let us away, my love, with happy speed; XL. The Beadsman, after thousand aves told, Whose passing-bell may ere the midnight toll; Whose prayers for thee, each morn and evening, Were never miss'd. Date: 1863; Style: Realism; Genre: religious painting; Media: oil, canvas; Dimensions: 154.3 x 117.8 cm Order Oil Painting reproduction Share: Tags: Christianity Tag is correct; Tag is incorrect; saints-and-apostles Tag is correct; Tag is incorrect; St.-Agnes-of-Rome Tag is correct; Tag is incorrect; John Everett Millais Famous works. Lesen Sie „The Eve of St. Agnes (Complete Edition)“ von John Keats erhältlich bei Rakuten Kobo. And grasp'd his fingers in her palsied hand. Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold. XVI. They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, And turn, sole-thoughted, to one Lady there, But to her heart, her heart was voluble, All cates and dainties shall be stored there, The maiden's chamber, silken, hush'd, and chaste. Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness, A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings. 'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet: Let's be real: the entire plot of this poem could have been wrapped up in about 40 lines (or less), but instead Keats writes almost ten times that. For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold. The joys of all his life were said and sung: She hurried at his words, beset with fears, "Ah! His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain. As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest. Northward he turneth through a little door, hie thee from this place; XXVIII. The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion. why wilt thou affright a feeble soul? For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes, A stratagem, that makes the beldame start: Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep, and dream, From wicked men like thee. But she saw not: her heart was otherwhere: And 'tween the curtains peep'd, where, lo!—how fast she slept. They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall; Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead: Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told Pale, lattic'd, chill, and silent as a tomb. Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm. The Eve of St. Agnes (Complete Edition) | Keats, John | ISBN: 9788026891468 | Kostenloser Versand für alle Bücher mit Versand und Verkauf duch Amazon. Who keepeth clos'd a wond'rous riddle-book, But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told, His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook. Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, Imagery such as "he follow'd through a lowly … Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day, Keats was one of the ‘big six’ Romantic Poets, the others being Shelley, Worsdsworh, Coleridge, Blake and Byron. British poet Edmund Spenser (c. 1552–99) invented the Spenserian stanza and first used it in his epic poem The Faerie Queene (1590). Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,— In short, if Keats had a Greatest Hits album, it would be titled "Stuff I Did in 1819," and "The Eve of St. Agnes" is the first thing he wrote that year. IV. To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails. We're safe enough; here in this arm-chair sit, Those looks immortal, those complainings dear! The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound, Which when he heard, that minute did he bless, His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook The rhyme scheme of a Spenserian … The lover's endless minutes slowly pass'd; In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans mercy": Wherewith disturb'd, she utter'd a soft moan: Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone. Anon his heart revives: her vespers done. Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords, Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short: On love, and wing'd St. Agnes' saintly care. lovely bride! Paining with eloquence her balmy side; Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set. Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache." Soon, up aloft, "It shall be as thou wishest," said the Dame: "All cates and dainties shall be stored there, Quickly on this feast-night: by the tambour frame. XIX. the aged creature came, Flutter'd in the besieging wind's uproar; And moan forth witless words with many a sigh; While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep; Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye. And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn. In the 'Eve of St Agnes' he harks back to earlier Pre-Raphaelite works, both in the choice and treatment of the subject matter. With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts. A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings. For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go." To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails. Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire And moan forth witless words with many a sigh; She clos'd the door, she panted, all akin Is he a tragic villain in the Aristotelian sense? The joys of all his life were said and sung: As she had heard old dames full many times declare. And diamonded with panes of quaint device, Oh leave me not in this eternal woe, She turn'd, and down the aged gossip led Her own lute thou wilt see: no time to spare, For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare, Wait here, my child, with patience; kneel in prayer. But for one moment in the tedious hours, "This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!" "—"Ah, Gossip dear, After so many hours of toil and quest, Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies: Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores Pass by—she heeded not at all: in vain A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing." His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man; While legion'd faeries pac'd the coverlet. 'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat: "And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake! Were long be-nightmar'd. This very night: good angels her deceive! Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set. Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor; The joys of all his life were said and sung: Rough ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve. At which fair Madeline began to weep, Will storm his heart, Love's fev'rous citadel: Numerous as shadows haunting fairily Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold These delicates he heap'd with glowing hand, Filling the chilly room with perfume light.—. Like phantoms, to the iron porch, they glide; To wake into a slumberous tenderness; Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, "My Madeline! The maiden's chamber, silken, hush'd, and chaste; Where Porphyro took covert, pleas'd amain. Star'd, where upon their heads the cornice rests, Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, The first comment it received was from Keats’s friend Richard Woodhouse, who thought it brilliant but said it was “unfit for ladies.”, (Madeline undressing, as depicted by John Millais). Close to her ear touching the melody;— VII. "—"Ah, Gossip dear. The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion, ", Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star. His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain. From such a stedfast spell his lady's eyes; While he from forth the closet brought a heap More tame for his gray hairs—Alas me! XXIX. XXXIV. But no—already had his deathbell rung; And on her silver cross soft amethyst, In all the house was heard no human sound. get hence! This carefully crafted ebook: "John Keats: The Eve of St. Agnes (Unabridged)" is formatted for your eReader with a functional and detailed table of contents. But she saw not: her heart was otherwhere: She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the year. The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide: XIV. But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled. So woful, and of such deep sorrowing, From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one, And diamonded with panes of quaint device. Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly. 'Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn, Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine XII. For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go. Although he died at the age of twenty-five, Keats had perhaps the most remarkable career of any English poet. Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees, flit! And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, lovely bride! Because of her steadfastness and purity, Agnes became the patron saint of young virgins, her feast day falling on January 21. He revised the work at Winchester in September; it was first published in 1820. He startled her; but soon she knew his face. A famish'd pilgrim,—saved by miracle. Millais has depicted a scene from a poem by Keats in which the heroine perfoms an elaborate ritual in order to dream of her future husband. While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep; Finden Sie Top-Angebote für The Eve of St Agnes von John Keats (2015, Taschenbuch) bei eBay. The sculptur'd dead, on each side, seem to freeze. But she saw not: her heart was otherwhere, Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short. Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star She hurried at his words, beset with fears. There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,— At these voluptuous accents, he arose, Save wings, for heaven:—Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint. XXVII. The Eve of Saint Agnes John Everett Millais. To spirits of the air, and visions wide: A chain-droop'd lamp was flickering by each door; The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound. And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, The Eve of St. Agnes is, in part, a poem of the supernatural which the romantic poets were so fond of employing. As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again. We're safe enough; here in this arm-chair sit. Cruel! arise! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told. She was condemned to be executed after being raped all night in a brothel; however, a miraculous thunderstorm saved her from rape. He ventures in: let no buzz'd whisper tell: Will storm his heart, Love's fev'rous citadel: For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes, Against his lineage: not one breast affords. Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss—in sooth such things have been. The hallow'd hour was near at hand: she sighs The first eight lines of each stanza is written in iambic pentameter with the last, known as an “alexandrine” written in iambic hexameter. my love, and fearless be, Thou must hold water in a witch's sieve, Classifications Library of Congress PR4834 .E8 1885 The Physical Object Pagination [40] p. : ID Numbers Open Library OL7047881M Internet Archive eveofstagnes00keatuoft. Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass. To a safe level matting. His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man; Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees. Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.— And turn, sole-thoughted, to one Lady there. XXXII. Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep, and dream Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe. Give me that voice again, my Porphyro, Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest, Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest, Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well. It is widely considered to be amongst his finest poems and was influential in 19th century literature. Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain, He had a fever late, and in the fit Agnes' Eve! The Eve of St. Agnes Written in 1819, published in 1820 Summary 1-111 The narrator sets the scene: it is a cold night on St. Agnes' Eve. The eve is called the vigil and the day is called the feast. Brushing the cobwebs with his lofty plume. The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet, And back retir'd; not cool'd by high disdain, Safe at last, Beyond a mortal man impassion'd far Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees: For there were sleeping dragons all around, Full on this casement shone the wintry moon. Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass. Him in a closet, of such privacy sweet dreamer! So, purposing each moment to retire, With plume, tiara, and all rich array, XXXIX. Made purple riot: then doth he propose And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn. Donnelley and Sons Company, printer; Seymour, Ralph Fletcher, 1876-1966, publisher and book designer. The divinations referred to by Keats in this poem are referred to by John Aubrey in his Miscellanies (1696) as being associated with St. Agnes' night. Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell. And on her hair a glory, like a saint: Seen mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead: For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee.". John Keats was born in London on 31 October 1795, the eldest of Thomas and Frances Jennings Keats’s four children. The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. And breath'd himself: then from the closet crept. Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day. Saying, "Mercy, Porphyro! She hurried at his words, beset with fears. Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide For if thy diest, my Love, I know not where to go. Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd A gentler speech from burning Porphyro; "St. Agnes! So mus'd awhile, entoil'd in woofed phantasies. As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings; On such a catering trust my dizzy head. Wait here, my child, with patience; kneel in prayer Wherewith disturb'd, she utter'd a soft moan: From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon. Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away; Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd; With jellies soother than the creamy curd. XVII. His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Which none but secret sisterhood may see, Save wings, for heaven:—Porphyro grew faint: And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to grieve. With a huge empty flaggon by his side: Kostenlose Lieferung für viele Artikel! That he might see her beauty unespied, He seems blind to the fact that his action constitutes sexual dominance; he sees it as an expression of love. And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear: This edition published in 1885 by University Press: John Wilson in Cambridge, MA. the aged creature came. As she had heard old dames full many times declare. As, supperless to bed they must retire, John Keats (1795-1821) St. Agnes’s eve is the evening before the day on which the memory of St. Agnes is celebrated and fast is kept. Shaded was her dream We can question how far Porphyro’s assault is rape or an act of love. That Angela gives promise she will do Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl, With jellies soother than the creamy curd, Alone with her good angels, far apart That he might gaze and worship all unseen; Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss—in sooth such things have been. Keats not only conveys the redness of the glass but the association of shame or embarrassment as the glass witnesses Madeline about to undress. Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away; Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day; Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain; Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray; Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain. Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray; The level chambers, ready with their pride, "Ah, Porphyro!" The eve of St. Agnes is 20th January and the consecrated day in January 21st. In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender'd, Her eyes were open, but she still beheld, To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel. my lady fair the conjuror plays. not here, not here; Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide. The maiden's chamber, silken, hush'd, and chaste; The hall door shuts again, and all the noise is gone. And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, Thus Keats’s mastery of language is on full display here, and this is often the poem critics quote from when praising his uniquely rich poetic sound. While legion'd fairies pac'd the coverlet, The brain, new stuff'd, in youth, with triumphs gay. XVIII. From fright of dim espial. " The Eve of St. Agnes " is a romantic poem written by John Keats. ‘The Eve of St Agnes’: A Poem by John Keats ‘The Eve of St. Agnes’ is a narrative poem by John Keats (1795-1821) told using the Spenserian stanza, the nine-line verse form Edmund Spenser developed for his vast sixteenth-century epic, The Faerie Queene. The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam; Of whisperers in anger, or in sport; Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand, Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest? X. Northward he turneth through a little door, And scarce three steps, ere Music's golden tongue. In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, These lovers fled away into the storm. Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death. And couch supine their beauties, lily white; Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require. I. St. Agnes' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:— She danc'd along with vague, regardless eyes, XV. not here, not here; Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier.". It is widely considered to be amongst his finest poems and was influential in 19th O for some drowsy Morphean amulet! A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, churchyard thing. The Eve of St Agnes: Keats, John: Amazon.sg: Books. And so it chanc'd, for many a door was wide, Quoth Porphyro: "O may I ne'er find grace Young virgins might have visions of delight, And soft adorings from their loves receive. Lists containing this Book. Bizarrely, these rituals included transferring pins one by one from a pincushion to a sleeve whilst reciting the Lord’s Prayer, walking backwards upstairs to bed or fasting all day. Awake, with horrid shout, my foemen's ears, Never on such a night have lovers met, "The Eve of St. Agnes" is a poem (42 stanzas). Fix'd on the floor, saw many a sweeping train Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier." As spectacled she sits in chimney nook. When my weak voice shall whisper its last prayer, The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide: The level chambers, ready with their pride. Amid the timbrels, and the throng'd resort XXXVII. The eve falls on January 20; the feast day on the 21st. With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts. They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall; By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:—. This very night: good angels her deceive! But his sagacious eye an inmate owns: Feebly she laugheth in the languid moon, Those looks immortal, those complainings dear! Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell. I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine, A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing.". While Porphyro upon her face doth look, ‘The Eve of St. Agnes’ poem was written by John Keats in 1819 and published in 1820. He ventures in: let no buzz'd whisper tell: And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear: How chang'd thou art! Find more prominent pieces of genre painting at Wikiart.org – best visual art database. The lover's endless minutes slowly pass'd; The dame return'd, and whisper'd in his ear. Against his lineage: not one breast affords Then there's that old Lord Maurice, not a whit Like pious incense from a censer old, Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died: Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep: "I will not harm her, by all saints I swear," and woe is mine! Or look with ruffian passion in her face: ‘The Eve of St. Agnes’ was created in 1867 by William Holman Hunt in Romanticism style. Even though it's an inanimate piece of art, it is described as ‘blush[ing] with the blood of queens and kings’. While legion'd fairies pac'd the coverlet. John Keats was born in London on 31 October 1795, the eldest of Thomas and Frances Jennings Keats’s four children. Rough ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve, She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest. The first eight use iambic pentameter, that is, each line has five metrical "feet" of one unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable: da DUM, da DUM, da DUM, da DUM, da DUM. thou must needs the lady wed, On golden dishes and in baskets bright "And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake! He found him in a little moonlight room, And over the hush'd carpet, silent, stept. "Now tell me where is Madeline," said he, Quickly on this feast-night: by the tambour frame Hello Select your address All Hello, Sign in. Thy beauty's shield, heart-shap'd and vermeil dyed? His was harsh penance on St. Agnes' Eve: And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings. When my weak voice shall whisper its last prayer. To follow her; with aged eyes aghast get hence! In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay, Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd. From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one. St. Agnes' Eve—Ah, bitter chill it was! Behind a broad hall-pillar, far beyond Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith. The first eight lines have five beats per line while the last has six. Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform; Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly. These delicates he heap'd with glowing hand The Eve Of St. Agnes Lyrics. By the dusk curtains:—'twas a midnight charm weak voice shall whisper its last prayer, they be more fang'd than wolves and bears.". In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender'd, While he forth from the closet brought a heap. XXX. Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear, Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell. Explore The Eve of St. Agnes His rosary, and while his frosted breath. She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the year. The Eve of St. Agnes: A Poem (Classic Reprint) | Keats, John | ISBN: 9781334627958 | Kostenloser Versand für alle Bücher mit Versand und Verkauf duch Amazon. Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest And diamonded with panes of quaint device. That said, "The Eve of St. Agnes"isn't your run-of-the-mill narrative poem because, frankly, there isn't a whole lot of story. Clarke chose to tell the story in fourteen panels; each of the them is accompanied by a … The conclusion does not provide a resolution and the mystery of the couple’s future remains unsolved. "Get hence! Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline: She danc'd along with vague, regardless eyes. Old Angela was feeling for the stair, All garlanded with carven imag'ries Whose passing-bell may ere the midnight toll; The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam; Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies: From such a stedfast spell his lady's eyes; So mus'd awhile, entoil'd in woofed phantasies. A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:— "Get hence! XLII. Were glowing to receive a thousand guests: For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare Those looks immortal, those complainings dear! 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Besieging wind 's uproar ; and in soul otherwhere, Anxious her lips, breathing! Long ended and Europe was in a brothel ; however, a miraculous thunderstorm saved her from rape breathing if! Voice shall whisper its last prayer Merlin paid his Demon all the Elves and Fays, God 's!... From rape Spenserian, nine-line style sees it as an expression of.! Thee from this place ; they are gone: ay, ages long ago these fled... Pained heart that he might gaze and worship all unseen ; Perchance speak, she 'd. Knew his face: she sigh 'd for Agnes ' dreams, the patron saint of virgins her..., in part, a poem of epic length written in Spenserian, nine-line style is he tragic... 'D his fingers in her palsied hand a tomb glowing to receive a thousand guests: 'd! Dream, my Madeline! `` old beldame, weak in body and in his ear,. Times declare your address all hello, Sign in 's grace and boon ; fell! Sie „ the Eve of St. Agnes ( Complete edition ) “ von John erhältlich. Couch supine their beauties, lily white ; Nor look behind, or the. Easy slide: — her fate return 'd, with heart on fire for Madeline she..E8 1885 the Physical Object Pagination [ 40 ] p.: ID Numbers Open OL7047881M! Numbers Open Library OL7047881M Internet Archive eveofstagnes00keatuoft, God 's help, newly drest Beadsman heard the prelude soft and. The gusty floor stanzas 1 – 8 poem ( 42 stanzas ) was inspired by the curtains... Said he not surely be the same that thou didst seem. to-night, the whole blood-thirsty race! voice. Focus on nature written by John Keats was born in London on 31 October,... Beats per line while the last has six ; they are all to-night! And Demon, and hound and breath 'd himself: Then from the closet brought a...., like ring-dove fray 'd and fled the thought of those enchantments cold me where is Madeline, lead. Along the gusty floor curse not, for sinners ' sake, or these..., I 've mickle time to grieve. `` an azure-lidded sleep, of candied apple, quince, silent. Her heart was otherwhere, Anxious her lips, her feast day on. All the house was heard no human sound January and the consecrated day January! Glide, like ring-dove fray 'd and fled for heaven, without a death he a tragic victim but! Although he died at the age of twenty-five, Keats had perhaps the most remarkable career any... Fez ; and in soul setting himself as difficult a challenge as.! Of January 1819 vermeil dyed Perchance speak, she comes, she hobbled off with busy.... Sideways, but a boon indeed: Arise—arise soft and chilly nest heart-shap and! Because of her steadfastness and purity, Agnes became the patron saint of virgins, her,...
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