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For look! appeareth a flotilla yonder, mosquito-craft that cleave the rolling tide; and with their flowing sails the surges sunder, from the small island next the cont’inent side:
The crews rejoicing, in their hope and wonder could gaze on naught save what their hearts had joy’d.
“Who may be these?” each ask’ed him in amaze; “What law be theirs, what ruler, what their ways?”