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[16]
Mahavir did not turn a hair: "I'm not afraid of doom ! You said: to linger longer here Is death-but death for whom?''
The serpent overwrought and taut Struck at his foot to slay him. Mahavir was a game of God, The serpent could not play him!
Thrice did the serpent strike his foot, Black venom in his bite; The wounds began to gush with blood, Not red-but crystal white.
Since it was sacred milk that flowed Within his veins, and not Mere ordinary mortal blood As the blind serpent thought.
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