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Ay me unhappy! then my fears are true.
What fears, good Thyrsis ? Prythee briefly shew.
I'll tell ye; 't is not vain or fabulous (Though so esteemed by shallow Ignorance) What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly muse, Storied of old in high immortal verse, Of dire chimeras, and enchanted isles, And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell ;
For such there be; but Unbelief is blind.
Within the navel19 of this hideous wood,
With many murmurs mixed, whose pleasing poison
He and his monstrous rout are heard to how]
Yet have they many baits and guileful spells