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82 I marked not from afar the site Where lurked that most unhallowed wight, Taught by the pangs, with which I groan, Since then the wretch too well I’ve known, By his base treach’ry tripp’d and thrown! By his unwieldy form of snow Roughly arrested in my track, Onward, like arrow from a bow, I sprung—then fell, and broke my back! Detested form! that—like the trunk Of aged tree—the bard o’erthrew; How like thou art in form and hue To an old miser—or a monk , A miser, and his bags of gold! Woe to the miscreant who rolled Thy figure from the snow, to be A fence for “Hunchback” against me; A fence to Hunchback, caitiff rude, A plague to all the neighbourhood! Thou loaf-shaped heap—thou rustic fort, To break my legs—ill mannered sport! Meal-coloured castle—snow-white pump, Reared (where none need thee) on the hill; Thou frigid post—thou frosty stump, Ah, thou hast wrought me grievous ill! And wrung with thy untimely blows Blood from my feet and from my nose!