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The Rage
He made the ifreet's daughter weep
which turned to steam upon her cheek
and though so proud, now without shame
she trembled like a dying flame

No lover he, but minstrel sort
who came to charm the flaming court
With eyes upon him like the sun
he thought his wager fairly won

He begged his leave, she begged him wait
and paid him coins of fairy make
In foolish pride he filled his purse
and so was bound in fairy curse

They kept him in an embered cage
where ne'er he suffered, ne'er he aged
So was the minstrel kept in store
to burn for her forever more