And thine must not set down the barleybread.
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‘Then in his crazy bark as, ferrying o’er
The stream, thou sittest, one that seems to float
Rather than swim, midway ’twixt shore and shore,
Will stretch his fleshless hand upon the boat,
And beg thee of thy pity take him in.
Shut thy soft ear unto his clamour thin,
Nor for a phantom deed thyself devote.
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