My duty is fulfill'd to-day,
Swell'd greatly,That I may haste to yonder mill.And so I'm full and never still.
Phoebus' self, too, needs must love thee;They their silver voices gave thee,Age can never steal upon thee.Wise and gentle friend of poets,Born a creature fleshless, bloodless,Though Earth's daughter, free from suff'ring,To the gods e'en almost equal.
Cured, she made this oath:
Fill his mind with sweet content.
Then her wrath the mother cannot hold,
Christ is arisen,
His tears to flow ne'er ceas'd.
Princess Fish to free;She was much too complaisant,
But give the chain to thoseIn whose bold face we shiver'd see
Drove me back with warning haste;By my forty years of lowly
Venus' radiant temple smiled on both.Mother! thou that promise since hast broken,
I'd sink in death!
Praise or blame he ever loves;None in prose confess an error,Yet we do so, void of terror,
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