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| | error.txt |
 | | Now, while the poison all high life pervades, Write, if thou canst, one letter from the shades, One, and one only, charged with deep regret, That thy worst part, thy principles, live yet; 350 One sad epistle thence may cure mankind Of the plague spread by bundles left behind. |
 | | Philosophers, who darken and put out Eternal truth by everlasting doubt; Church quacks, with passions under no command, Who fill the world with doctrines contraband Discoverers of they know not what, confined Within no bounds--the blind that lead the blind; To streams of popular opinion drawn, Deposit in those shallows all their spawn. |
 | | The wriggling fry soon fill the creeks around, 480 Poisoning the waters where their swarms abound; Scorn'd by the nobler tenants of the flood, Minnows and gudgeons gorge the unwholesome food: The propagated myriads spread so fast, Even Leuwenhoeck himself would stand aghast, Employ'd to calculate the enormous sum, And own his crab-computing powers o'ercome. |
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