After [312].
Deep repose of bliss we lay
No other than as Eastern Sages gloss,
The God who floats upon a Lotos leaf
Dreams for a thousand ages, then awaking
Creates a World, then loathing the dull task
Relapses into blessedness, when an omen
Screamed from the Watch-tower—'twas the Watchman's cry,
And Oropeza starting.
MS. (alternative reading).
[[313]]
feign] paint S. L.
Before [314] Sandoval (with a sarcastic smile) S. L.
[[314-16]]
Compare Letter to Thelwall, Oct. 16, 1797, Letters of S. T. C., 1895, i. 229.
[[317]]
bliss.—Earl Henry. Ah! was that bliss S. L.