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“ ‘Oh Nymph! the loveliest born that bare the Main, alb’eit my presence ne’er by thee was sought, how could my poor delusion cause thee pain? Why not be mountain, cloud, rock, vision, nought? Raging I wandered forth well-nigh insane for yearning grief with foul dishonour fraught, to seek another world, where none could see my trickling tears, and scoff at them and me.