As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."
So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move.
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"Here, in an alcove in the wall of the arch, had once hung the notorious
Gabelline Oracle, sought out and yet dreaded by all who entered or left the
city...
Il y a 21 heures