CXII

  And him had plunged in uttermost despair

  One that to him erewhile had prophesied

  The loathsome Harpies should his daily fare

  Leave unpolluted only, when astride

  Of winged horse, arriving through the air,

  An armed cavalier should be descried.

  And, for impossible appears the thing,

  Devoid of hope remains the mournful king.

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