Canto

1     4| who would permit a doom so dire!~Perish (such fate were
2    10|    wanting in that journey dire,~But that the arms he wears
3    13| drags off its slimy trail.~Dire was the stroke; yet should
4    27|    flash with pain;~And as dire ruin follows, and from high,~
5    43|  Without me wend on such a dire emprize?~She ne'er before
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