| To the doorkeeper feet seven fathoms long |
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| And of honey-paleness overspreads the lovely countenance |
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| Whereunto may I well liken thee, dear bridegroom? |
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| For there was no other girl, O bridegroom, like her |
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| For they whom I benefit injure me most |
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| Or lovest another more than me |
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| When anger spreads through the breast, guard thy tongue from barking idly |
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| Come now, divine shell, become vocal for me |
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| Fonder of maids than Gello |
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| The Moon rose full, and the women stood as though around an altar |
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