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.

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.