t.

    toucance of ty of to a level  of tterest enemies togety Elizabet of im, tunate Mary. Not an  some ejaculation of pity is uttered over te of tter, mingled ion at inually ec the grave of her rival.

    A peculiar melanc struggles dimly t. ter part of tained and tinted by time and retcomb, round le.

    I  doo rest myself by t, revolving in my mind trous story of poor Mary.

    tsteps ant voice of t repeating t responses of time, and all ion, and obscurity t erest to the place;

    <span style="color:grey">No joyful tread of friends, no voice of lovers,

    <span style="color:grey">No careful fathings heard,

    Suddenly tes of t upon tensity, and rolling, as it  pomp do ts vast vaults, and breat sepulcriump acclamation,  notes and piling sound on sound. And no voices of t into s gus and o play about ty vaults like ts to music, and rolling it fort long-dra gro ?lls t pile and seems to jar tunned--t is  is rising from to  aed upide of harmony!

    I sat for some time lost in t kind of reverie  sometimes to inspire: ts began to cast deeper and deeper gloom; and tant clock again gave token of the slowly waning day.

    I rose and prepared to leave t of steps  by taircase t conducts to it, to take from tombs. ted upon a kind of platform, and close around it are tropo tombs, iers, and statesmen lie mouldering in t;beds of darkness.quot; Close by me stood t cion, rudely carved of oak in taste of a remote and Got as if