Why, look at all the garlands
You carried off——
Gyges.
So that the laurel-tree
Need never fear me more! My wish was merely
To prove that bones may be inside a man
And marrow in those bones, although that man
Snap not a zither’s strings to tattered shreds
At the first touch. Now not a soul but knows it
Whate’er the doubt he may till now have had;