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Ne'er talk of Wisdom's gloomy schools;
Give me the sage who's able
From the sunshine of the table ;
This world and all that's in it,
And is gone'again next minute.
The pearl beneath the water,
The grape's own rosy daughter!
Oh! none like him obtain her,
Through sparkling floods to gain her!
HERE SLEEPS THE BARD!
Here sleeps the Bard who knew so well
END OF VOLUME IV.