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These things I learned
Less from my Father than from Cassiodorus:—
How writes he now? ‘The realm I served is doomed,
Thy Father's thirty years and three of greatness
Make dismal end. Thou knowest Calabria bore me:
There will I build to God a monastery;
There 'mid the ocean thunders find my rest;
There on Boethius muse. Pray that my life,

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Too blest, too peaceful for heroic virtue,
May there make holy end.’