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Two tales are told of sores no salve can cure;
Hear now the third and worst,
Where marriage harbours hate,
Where woman's brain can plot
Fierce treachery against her warrior mate.
Whose brow his trembling enemies saw
Darkened with majesty and awe—
There stands a house by all gods accursed!
Honour belongs where home and hearth are pure,
Where neither hate grows hot,