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| Another riddle for the same story. |
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Riddle Two
O thou of phoenix birth,
Who riseth in the toil of the land,
Who in sun blindeth all who deign behold
Thy tempered voice is sharp and sweet,
Thy might shatters land and castle
Only to break at the face of a stone
Only to drown in the depths of the sea,
and turn to pitch or roan.
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| Riddle One |
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