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Returning in the carrier's motor van she sat nid-nod, while conversation ran blithe as a freshet over ulcered legs, murders, spring onions, and the price of eggs.

Who heard of him heard shaken hills, An earth at quake, to quiet stamped; Who looked on him beheld the will of wills, The driver of wild flocks where lions ramped: Beheld War's liveries flee him, like lumped grass Nid-nod to ground beneath the cuffing storm; While laurelled over his Imperial form, Forth from her bearded tube of lacquey brass, Reverberant notes and long blew volant Fame.