"At last with creeping crooked pace forth came An old old man, with beard as white as snow, That on a staffe his feeble steps did frame, And guyde his wearie gate both too and fro; For his eye sight him fayled long ygo, And on his arme a bounch of keyes he bore, The which vnused rust did ouergrow: Those were the keyes of euery inner dore, But he could not them vse, but kept them still in store.'But very vncouth sight was to behold, How he did fashion his vntoward pace, For as he forward mooud his footing old, So backward still was turnd his wrincled face, Vnlike to men, who euer as they trace, Both feet and face one way are wont to lead. This was the auncient keeper of that place, And foster father of the Gyaunt dead; His name Ignaro did his nature right aread."
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The Faerie Queene
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