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 | | If the moon rode high in heaven, as he passed through the outlying gardens he might catch a glimpse of some deserted girl shredding the magical herbs into the burning brazier, and sending upward to the 'lady Selene' the song which was to charm her lover home. |
 | | Three times do I pour libation, and thrice, my Lady Moon, I speak this spell:- Be it with a friend that he lingers, be it with a leman he lies, may he as clean forget them as Theseus, of old, in Dia--so legends tell--did utterly forget the fair-tressed Ariadne. |
 | | But he was singing of Galatea, and pining in his place he sat by the sea-weed of the beach, from the dawn of day, with the direst hurt beneath his breast of mighty Cypris's sending,--the wound of her arrow in his heart! |
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