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Ah! You paths of the sounding sea, you tidal caves and wooded pastures by the shore, long, long, too long indeed  have you detained me here at Troy. But no more will you hold me, no more so long as I have the breath of life. Of that much let sane men be sure. O neighboring streams of Scamander,  kindly to the Greeks, no more shall you look on Ajax, whose equal in the army—here I will boast—  Troy has never seen come from the land of Hellas. But now deprived of honor I lie low here in the dust!
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