LV. The sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit, The Laos wide and fierce came roaring by; The shades of wonted night were gathering yet, When, down the steep banks winding wearily Childe Harold saw, like meteors in the sky, The glittering minarets of Tepalen, Whose walls o'erlook the stream; and drawing nigh, He heard the busy hum of warrior-men Swelling the breeze that sighed along the lengthening glen.
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