Orpheus' long, slow, crawl out of Hell
Has left him nothing -- not even himself!
Long had he traveled, sorrowing, with his bride,
and many terrors endured, and now
Unslings his lyre, and looks at her too soon!*
He rushes back... she meets him... calm... forbidding...
"Eurydice, My Love, so sad, your gaze...
Come quickly, ere the shadows form, and take you......
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