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He began to have misgivings about his choice, but he stifled them. Toward dawn the bird ceased. The morning came, and with it thirst and hunger; but no succor. The day waxed and waned. At last the king cursed the nightingale. Immediately the song of the thrush came from out the wood. The king said in his heart, "This was the true-bird my choice was false succor will come now."
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