They of our mortal diseases find never healing physician;。，For what he gives is he repaid.
The sly Persuader snaky in his blood;。，Moreover, quits a throne, and must enclose
So is it sung in any space。，Won with much labour, the which my gift from the sons of Achaia.
The spiritual the palpable illumed.。，Snatch at the prize of the one whose voice has been lifted against
XX。，Followed, chasing and slaughtering aye, on-urgeing the Argives.
One, more one than the bridally embraced.。，Or would she fit a warrior mood,
These, the irreverent of Life's design,。，Him a laborious thrust of roadway slew.
。，Her troops of eager servitors regales?
Struck showers from embers at those bodeful notes.。，He travels, urged by some internal goad.
To his last fastness; overthrown by few.。，Snatch at the prize of the one whose voice has been lifted against
XIV。，A sword is driven; for those most glorious twain
。，From tangled solitudes expelled; and taught
Was rumoured how a castle's falcon towers。，
At every point of juncture must be proof;。，Sense of his march ahead, more brightly lit;
Her heart at intervals while Love looked blank,。，They let be seen: yet every human test
She feels her blood-tree throbbing in her grain,。，His heart enlarged beyond its ribbed domain,
，。，No prayer, save for strength to keep his ground,