Would feed her eye; and choosing for her guide
A low-voiced singer, bade her come explore
The wondrous house; until on every side
As surfeited with beauty, and seeing nought
But what was rich and fair beyond her thought,
And all her own, thus to the voice she cried:
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‘Am I indeed a goddess, or is this
But to be dead; and through the gates of death
Passing unwittingly doth man not miss