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Again the Lyre its soul of music sheds, and sings the Nymph how shall Soáres fly air-winn’owing flags whose terror far o’erspreads the ruddy coasted lands of Araby: Th’ abominable town, Medina, dreads as Meca dreads and Gidá, and where lie Abassia’s ultime shores: while Barbora fears the fate that floodeth Zeyla-mart with tears.