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Now of his iv’ory Lune the cusps drew near, with might and main th’ indomitable Boy, who fired at Tethys more than any fair, for-that was she to love the coyest coy.
Now of its arrows is the quiver bare, nor lives in sea-plain Nymph her life to ’joy; and, if the wounded breathe a living breath ’tis but to savour that they strive with Death.