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1    VI| longing pined,~Her hope a mote drawn up by Phoebus' rays,~Her
2   VII|  shield was got,~His sword was drawn, closed was his helmet bright,~
3   VII|       his hands, which yet had drawn no blood,~And with such
4   XVI|     forsook,~But followed her, drawn on by fond desire:~Well
5  XVII|         LXXXVII~"Would God, as drawn from the forgetful lap~Of
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