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I can see that in you. I have age and experience. I know every one here in the house, and I know there was once a time when I did not lie out here in the cold, fastened to a chain. Away, away!" "The cold is delightful," said the Snow Man; "but do tell me tell me; only you must not clank your chain so; for it jars all through me when you do that." "Away, away!" barked the yard-dog; "I'll tell you; they said I was a pretty little fellow once; then I used to lie in a velvet-covered chair, up at the master's house, and sit in the mistress's lap.

They used to kiss my nose, and wipe my paws with an embroidered handkerchief, and I was called 'Ami, dear Ami, sweet Ami.' But after a while I grew too big for them, and they sent me away to the housekeeper's room; so I came to live on the lower story. You can look into the room from where you stand, and see where I was master once; for I was indeed master to the housekeeper. It was certainly a smaller room than those up stairs; but I was more comfortable; for I was not being continually taken hold of and pulled about by the children as I had been.

I received quite as good food, or even better. I had my own cushion, and there was a stove- it is the finest thing in the world at this season of the year. I used to go under the stove, and lie down quite beneath it. Ah, I still dream of that stove. Away, away!" "Does a stove look beautiful?" asked the Snow Man, "is it at all like me?" "It is just the reverse of you,' said the dog; "it's as black as a crow, and has a long neck and a brass knob; it eats firewood, so that fire spurts out of its mouth.
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The mist had vanished, and the Moor-woman stopped her brewing. "You've been a long time coming!" said the Moor-woman. "Witches get forward faster than men, and I'm glad that I belong to the witch folk!" "What have you to say to me now?" asked the man. "Is it anything about the Story?" "Can you never get beyond asking about that?" retorted the woman. "Can you tell me anything about the poetry of the future?" resumed the man. "Don't get on your stilts," said the crone, "and I'll answer you.

You think of nothing but poetry, and only ask about that Story, as if she were the lady of the whole troop. She's the oldest of us all, but she takes precedence of the youngest. I know her well. I've been young, too, and she's no chicken now. I was once quite a pretty elf-maiden, and have danced in my time with the others in the moonlight, and have heard the nightingale, and have gone into the forest and met the Story-maiden, who was always to be found out there, running about. Sometimes she took up her night's lodging in a half-blown tulip, or in a field flower; sometimes she would slip into the church, and wrap herself in the mourning crape that hung down from the candles on the altar."

Sometimes she took up her night's lodging in a half-blown tulip, or in a field flower; sometimes she would slip into the church, and wrap herself in the mourning crape that hung down from the candles on the altar." "You are capitally well-informed," said the man. "I ought at least to know as much as you," answered the Moor-woman. "Stories and poetry- yes, they're like two yards of the same piece of stuff; they can go and lie down where they like, and one can brew all their prattle, and have it all the better and cheaper.
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With awful strides 375 Came Hector foremost; him Apollo led, His shoulders wrapt in clouds, and, on his arm, The .gis shagg'd terrific all around, Tempestuous, dazzling-bright; it was a gift To Jove from Vulcan, and design'd to appall, 380 And drive to flight the armies of the earth. Arm'd with that shield Apollo led them on. Firm stood the embodied Greeks; from either host Shrill cries arose; the arrows from the nerve Leap'd, and, by vigorous arms dismiss'd, the spears 385 Flew frequent; in the flesh some stood infixt Of warlike youths, but many, ere they reach'd The mark they coveted, unsated fell Between the hosts, and rested in the soil.

Long as the God unagitated held 390 The dreadful disk, so long the vollied darts Made mutual slaughter, and the people fell; But when he look'd the Grecian charioteers Full in the face and shook it, raising high Himself the shout of battle, then he quell'd 395 Their spirits, then he struck from every mind At once all memory of their might in arms. 225 As when two lions in the still, dark night A herd of beeves scatter or numerous flock Suddenly, in the absence of the guard, 400 So fled the heartless Greeks, for Phoebus sent Terrors among them, but renown conferr'd And triumph proud on Hector and his host.

225 As when two lions in the still, dark night A herd of beeves scatter or numerous flock Suddenly, in the absence of the guard, 400 So fled the heartless Greeks, for Phoebus sent Terrors among them, but renown conferr'd And triumph proud on Hector and his host. Then, in that foul disorder of the field, Man singled man. Arcesilaüs died 405 By Hector's arm, and Stichius; one, a Chief[9] Of the Boeotians brazen-mail'd, and one, Menestheus' faithful follower to the fight. .neas Medon and I.s
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