Grew kind and told her of a shallow ford
Where lower down the stream o’er pebbles ran,
And one might pass at ease with ankles dry:
Whither she went, and crossing o’er thereby,
Her lonely wanderings through the isle began.
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But none could tell, no, nor herself had told
Where food she found, or shelter through the land
By day or night; until by fate control’d
She came by steep ways to the southern strand,