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XII
"How sweet is mortal Sovranty " — think some :
Others — " How blest the Paradise to come !"
Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest ;
Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum !
XIII
Look to the Rose that blows about us — "Lo,
Laughing," she says, "into the World I blow :
At once the silken Tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."
