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Here too, of answering love secure,
     Have I not welcomed to my hearth
The gentle pilgrim troubadour,
     Whose songs have girdled half the earth;
Whose pages, like the magic mat
     Whereon the Eastern lover sat,
Have borne me over Rhine-land's purple vines,
     And Nubia's tawny sands, and Phrygia's mountain pines!

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