Yea, now wax'd Fate half weary of her game,
And had no care but aye to kill and kill,
And many young kings to the battle came,
And of that joy they quickly had their fill,
And last came Memnon: and the Trojans still
Took heart, like wearied mariners that see
(Long toss'd on unknown waves at the winds' will)
Through clouds the gleaming crest of Helike.
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