III.
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er strong enchantments failing,Her towers of fear in wreck,Her limbecks dried of poisonsAnd the knife at her neck, The Queen of air and darknessBegins to shrill and cry,'O young man, O my slayer,To-morrow you shall die.' O Queen of air and darkness,I think 'tis truth you say,And I shall die to-morrow;But you will die to-day.
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