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I met him, who you laughed at
———————threw pebbles at
————-shockingly mocked at
the utter fool, most intelligent
the blind who’d clear eye-sight
——–the villain, most innocent
the liar who never any lies told
at the mount Cithaeron’s foot.

My presence he’d have felt, but
Uphill he was blankly looking at;
“Had you not tried your own past
You would have kept your post
At least, your clearer eyesight,”
Yet he said his choice’s all right
For the two sins he’d committed
By suffering only he could repay it.

Had he not his life thus sacrificed,
We would’ve this tradition missed.

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