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Updated: May 25, 2025
That with the napkin dally; I think he came like Ganymede, From some delightful valley. "The Cock was of a larger egg Than modern poultry drop, Stept forward on a firmer leg, And cramm'd a plumper crop; Upon an ampler dunghill trod, Crow'd lustier late and early, Sipt wine from silver, praising God, And raked in golden barley.
As when a well-graced actor leaves the stage, The eyes of men Are idly bent on him that enters next, so idly did we bend our eyes upon one another, when the chief performers in the morning's pageant had vanished. None told his tale. None sipt her glass. The poor Admiral made an effort it was not much. I had anticipated so far.
The figure came still closer, prest down his arms with her hands, so that his face lay bare, and said with a gently fluttering voice: "No, look at me; I am not dead; and yet I live not. Give me that cup there." A fragrant liquid was floating in the crystal vessel; he held it out to her trembling; she set it to her mouth and sipt the drink by slow draughts.
Her pale lips sipt the wonderous draught; she again unfolded her eyes, fixt them on her former friend, turned away from him with an expression of loathing, and fell into a deep sleep. The old man carefully closed the chamber again. Everything in the house was quiet.
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