Trained to the sport and eager for the game
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he father and 'his whelps' to flag at once,And then the sharp fangs gored their bosoms deep. _20Ere morn I roused myself, and heard my sons, For they were with me, moaning in their sleep,And begging bread. Ah, for those darling ones!Right cruel art thou, if thou dost not weep In thinking of my soul's sad augury; _25And if thou weepest not now, weep never more!They were already waked, as wont drew nigh The allotted hour for food, and in that hourEach drew a presage from his dream. When I'Heard locked beneath me of that horrible tower _30
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