Chorus
[975] Why does this terror so persistently hover standing before my prophetic soul? Why does my song, unbidden and unfed, chant strains of augury? Why does assuring confidence not sit on my heart's throne [980] and spurn the terror like an uninterpretable dream? But Time has collected the sands of the shore upon the cables cast thereon [985] when the shipborn army sped forth for Ilium.1
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