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Orpheus and Eurydice
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There has only been one mortal whose skill at playing the lyre
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compared with the skill of the god of music, golden Apollo,
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and that mortal’s name was Orpheus.
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When he played,
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the birds would swoop down from the heavens and sit on the branches above his head.
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When he played,
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the animals of the fields would gather round him,
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their heads cocked to one side.
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Now Orpheus had fallen in love with a woman called Eurydice.
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There was a wedding,
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a magnificent wedding,
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but all through the wedding ceremony
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the candles and the lamps in the temple gave off an oily black smoke
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so that the guests coughed and choked.
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Even the priests had to wipe tears from their eyes.
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They looked at one another and shook their heads:
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‘This is a bad omen.
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Such things should never happen at a wedding.’
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And the priests were right to be worried.
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The very next morning Eurydice woke up early.
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She climbed out of the bed where Orpheus was still deep in sleep.
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She pulled on her clothes and went out walking.
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The dawn was breaking.
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A snake that was coiled up on a rock woke up.
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It slid through the grass just as Eurydice was walking barefoot across the meadow.
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Their paths crossed.
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It sunk its fangs into her ankle;
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its poison coursed through her veins.
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With a cry she fell to the ground.
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When Orpheus found her she was lying dead and cold.
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He lifted her in his arms.
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He carried her home, his face wet with tears.
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When the funeral was finished,
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when the pyre had burned and the heat of the fire’s heart had consumed the house of bone,
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Orpheus picked up his lyre and set off on a great journey.
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He travelled over land and sea until he came to a dark cave.
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He made his way through tunnels that wound to the left and right.
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He delved into darkness.
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At last he came to the edge of an oily, black river,
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the river of forgetfulness.
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On the far side of it he could see the shadowy hills of the country he was seeking.
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He was looking across towards the land of the dead.
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Orpheus stared over the water,
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with only the thought of Eurydice in his mind.
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How could his lovely bride be there,
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in that strange dark place?
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Suddenly there came the sound of growling,
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then a harsh barking.
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Out of the shadows the great three-headed dog Cerberus,
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who guards the river bank,
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leapt at Orpheus,
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his lips curled back from his teeth.
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Orpheus lifted his lyre to his shoulder and began to play;
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and such was the beauty of his music that the monstrous dog stopped in his tracks,
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wagged his tail,
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closed his six red eyes,
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rolled onto his back and howled with his three heads.
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The beauty of the music floated out across the water
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and reached the ears of Charon, the ferryman.
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He poled his boat towards the sound.
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Orpheus never stopped playing his lyre.
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He stepped from the bank into the boat
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and the ancient ferryman pushed away from the land and poled his boat across the river.
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When they reached the far side, Orpheus, still playing,
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jumped from the boat and walked into the shadows.
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Soon there was a whispering around him, a rustling, a shuffling,
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like the sound of the wind blowing through dead leaves:
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the dead were gathering.
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They were following him.
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They were enchanted by his music.
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It made them weep for sorrows they could not remember any more;
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it made them laugh for joys that were forgotten,
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for the dead have lost all memory of their lives.
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They’re a drifting host of whispering ghosts.
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On and on Orpheus walked,
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surrounded by the dead,
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and then he saw a palace loom out of the shadows.
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As he approached it, the dead fell back.
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He found that he was walking alone.
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He was approaching the dwelling place of their king.
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He made his way between black gates;
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he climbed steps of black stone;
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a doorway of black ebony swung open before him.
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He entered the hall.
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At the far end of it there were two thrones.
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On one sat the king of terrors, Hades himself,
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his eyes as deep as open graves,
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his black beard spread across his belly.
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Beside Hades sat his wife, beautiful Persephone.
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She was like a moon shining in a dark sky,
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like a mistletoe berry in the depths of winter.
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Orpheus, still playing his lyre,
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walked up to the two thrones.
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He stood before the god and goddess.
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He looked into their faces and then he began to sing.
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‘We mortals are wretched things
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and the gods who know no care have woven sorrow into the pattern of our lives.
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Even the sparrow on the branch,
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even the wren in the willow knows more of sorrow than the thundering gods,
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who have never felt the cold hand of death closing around their hearts.
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But you, you mighty gods,
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you have known the sweet pains of love.
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You have felt Aphrodite’s shining shafts.
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Great Hades,
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imagine those summer months, when Persephone is gone,
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lasting forever.
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Imagine, if you can, her pale face crumbling into dust.
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That is how it is for mortal man.
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Great Hades, I beg you,
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give me back my Eurydice.’
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There was a silence.
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Then Persephone turned to Hades,
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her face streaming with silver tears,
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and Hades turned to his wife.
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One oily black tear trickled down his cheek and splashed onto his beard.
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He drew breath and spoke:
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‘Fetch me the three Fates.’
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The three ancient sisters were brought before him,
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the first who spins out the thread of a life,
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the second who measures its length
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and the third who cuts it.
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Hades looked into the wrinkled, leathery face of the third sister.
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‘Find the cut thread of Eurydice’s life and mend it.’
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The third sister bowed before the god.
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Hades turned to Orpheus.
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‘Now go!
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Leave my palace!
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Leave my realm, and she will follow you.
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But do not look behind you.
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Do not look over your shoulder until the light of the sun shines full on your face.’
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Orpheus bowed.
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He turned on his heel and left the palace.
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He made his way across the shadowy kingdom until he came to the river’s edge.
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Charon, the ferryman, was waiting for him;
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he climbed into the boat.
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As he sat down he felt it tremble,
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as if someone had climbed in behind him.
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He kept his eyes fixed on the far shore.
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When they reached the riverbank, he stepped out of the boat
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and behind him he could hear footsteps,
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soft footsteps following him.
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As he journeyed, he could sometimes hear the snap of a twig.
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Sometimes he thought he could feel Eurydice’s breath on the back of his neck.
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And still he looked ahead.
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He made his way through the tunnel of stone.
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And then at last he was out of the cave and breathing the fresh air of the living world.
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Above him the sky was bright with shining stars.
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Soon, he thought to himself,
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soon the dawn will break and the light of the sun will shine on my face.
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But as Eurydice was following Orpheus,
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she caught her foot on a stone,
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she tripped and she fell.
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Orpheus heard her stumble and without thinking he turned to catch her in his arms.
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He tried to break her fall and for a single moment he saw her face,
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pale beneath the silver stars.
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And then his arms closed around empty air and she was gone.
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In the land of many guests,
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the third Fate cut the thread of Eurydice’s life for the second time.
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And this time there would be no mending it.
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Orpheus turned,
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he ran back into the cave,
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he journeyed down into darkness until he came to the edge of the oily black water.
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He shouted her name
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and there was no answer.
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And then the three-headed dog Cerberus came,
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growling and snarling and snapping at his ankles;
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and Charon the ancient ferryman cursed him and spat at him.
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And Orpheus knew there could be no return to the land of the dead.
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So he made his way back to the living world and he devoted himself to his music,
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which was more beautiful than ever,
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woven through with a silver thread of sorrow.
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And Orpheus never saw Eurydice again.
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Never.
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At least, not in this world.
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But some people say that when he died, many years later,
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Charon the ferrymanwas waiting for him.
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He carried Orpheus over the oily black water
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and as he stepped onto the bank at the far side, like all the others
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he forgot everything.
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He joined the drifting, oblivious hosts of the dead.
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But Persephone had seen him.
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And she remembered him and she felt pity stirring in her heart.
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She reached forwards and touched Orpheus’ forehead with the tip of her finger.
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And in that moment his memory returned.
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And then Persephone touched Eurydice’s forehead and she too remembered everything.
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And the two lovers found one another,
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in that shadowy kingdom,
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and they fell into one another’s arms.
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And even to this day, some say, they walk together,
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talking and laughing, sometimes arm in arm.
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Sometimes Eurydice walks ahead and Orpheus follows.
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And sometimes Orpheus walks ahead, knowing that he can look over his shoulder
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and his Eurydice will always be there.