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CV.

He first sunk to the bottom-like his works,
But soon rose to the surface-like himself;
For all corrupted things are buoy'd, like corks, 4
By their own rottenness, light as an elf,
Or wisp that flits o'er a morass: he lurks,

It may be, still, like dull books on a shelf,

In his own den to scrawl some «Life» or «Vision,» As Wellborn says-« the devil turn'd precisian. >>

CVI.

As for the rest, to come to the conclusion
Of this true dream, the telescope is gone
Which kept my optics free from all delusion,
And show'd me what I in my turn have shown:
All I saw further in the last confusion,

Was, that King George slipp'd into heaven for one; And when the tumult dwindled to a calm,

I left him practising the hundredth psalm.

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King Alfonso, speaking of the Ptolomean system, said, that «had he been consulted at the creation of the world, he would have spared the Maker some absurdities.»>

Note 3, page 369, stanza cii.

Like lightning, off from his « melodious twang. »

See Aubrey's account of the apparition which disappeared «with a curious perfume and a melodious twang ;» or see the Antiquary, Vol. I.

Note 4, page 370, stanza cv.

For all corrupted things are buoy'd, like corks,

By their own rottenness, etc.

A drowned body lies at the bottom till rotten; it then floats, as most people know.

THE GIAOUR,

A FRAGMENT OF

A TURKISH TALE.

"

One fatal remembrance-one sorrow that throws Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woesTo which life nothing darker nor brighter can bring, For which joy hath no balm--and affliction no sting." MOORE.

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