Chapter_309

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Yea, and the Muse from their lives is not exiled, but circlewise winding

Dances of maidens sweep, and the voice of the lyre rings clear,

And the notes of the pipe, and their tresses with golden bay-leaves binding

Blithely they banquet, nor eld nor wasting disease draw near

To that hallowed folk, but from toil and from clash of sword and spear