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 Lack zeal of mine. Then go, let her be brought

Hither outside the gate;

And bid her know me friend. But speed thee well,

Lest on those there with her some mischief fell

She wreak: so has her passion swelled of late.

I will do as ye bid, but there's fear lest I fail

My lady to win.

Yet I will give you my pains in free boon,

Although with the gaze of a lioness

With newborn cubs does she glare at her slaves,

If any approach her proffering speech.

And sure ye would not err if ye said

The men of old times were rude and nought wise,

Who fashioned for revels and wassails and feasts

Songs that make life by listening delight,

While no mortal has yet devised to lull

By music and chants many-toned the loathed pangs

When death and strange fates tread down homes.

And yet to calm these with the measured strain

Were in sooth a gain unto men: but why

Raise the vain sound where the feast is glad?