And all her wisdom was to hide her way;
In small attempts incessant were her pains,
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And Cunning was her name among the swains.
Now, whether fate decreed this pair should wed,
And blindly drove them to the marriage-bed;
Or whether love in some soft hour inclined
The damsel's heart, and won her to be kind,
Is yet unsung: they were an ill-match'd pair,
But both disposed to wed—and wed they were.