The Vision of Judgment 105

CV 

He first sank to the bottom - like his works, 
But soon rose to the surface - like himself; 
For all corrupted things are bouy'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 Welborn says - 'the devil turn'd precisian.' 

George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron (1788-1824) 
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