CLXXXII.

And forth they wandered, her sire being gone,

As I have said, upon an expedition;

And mother, brother, guardian, she had none,

Save Zoe, who, although with due precision

She waited on her lady with the Sun,

Thought daily service was her only mission,

Bringing warm water, wreathing her long tresses,

And asking now and then for cast-off dresses.

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