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Chapter 113 No.113

"Why need my tongue the issue tell?

We ran our course-my charger fell;

What could he 'gainst the shock of hell?

I rolled upon the plain.

High o'er my head, with threatening hand,

The spectre took his naked brand-

Yet did the worst remain:

My dazzled eyes I upward cast-

Not opening hell itself could blast

Their sight, like

            
            

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