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 THE CURSE AT FAREWELL

Ah, in deep distress,

Bowed with your heavy tasks, in loneliness,

In grief of exile, Brahmin, passed away

Your time with us. But was there no one, say,

The thought of whom would make your exile light

And fill the house with joy? Far as we might,

We honoured you, our guest, neath this poor roof,

We gave our all. Ev’n so, your mind aloof

Asked, ‘‘ Where shall I the bliss of heaven obtain?

Where see the laughing countenances again

Of heaven’s coquettes?’’ My earnest hope is this,

That, now returning to your realm of bliss,

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