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 And soon from Rambin's holy church the twain came forth as one,
The Amptman kissed a daughter, the miller blest a son.
John Deitrich's fame went far and wide, and nurse and maid crooned o'er
Their cradle song: ‘Sleep on, sleep well, the Trolls shall come no more!’
For in the haunted Nine Hills he set a cross of stone;
And Elf and Brown Dwarf sought in vain a door where door was none.
The tower he built in Rambin, fair Ruigen's pride and boast,
Looked o'er the Baltic water to the Pomeranian coast;
And, for his worth ennobled, and rich beyond compare,
Count Deitrich and his lovely bride dwelt long and happy there.
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