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If aught of her disconsolate pilgrimage

Thou hast not yet utter'd or hast left aside,

Speak! but if thou hast told her all, to us

Render our asking;—thou art not unmindful.

She hath heard her faring through to the very end.

Howbeit, that she may know her ears have drunk

No words of wind, I will rehearse the labours

Wrought out ere she came hither: this shall be

The warrant of my tale. Well, the most part

(For many words are tedious) I let go,

And touch the ending. After thou hadst come

To the Molossian crofts, the mountain ridges

About Dodona,—where be oracles

And siege of Zeus Thesprotian, and a wonder

Outrunning credit, even the oaks that hold

Familiar converse, which with clear proclaim

Hail'd thee, not darkly, spouse of Zeus Most High