Stanza

LXXXVIII. In ed. 2:

Said one--«Folks of a surly Master tell, And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell; They talk of some sharp Trial of us--Pish! He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well.»

In the first draft of ed. 3. the stanza begins:

«Why,» said another, «Dismal people tell Of an old Savage who will toss to Hell The luckless Pots,» etc.

LXXXIX. In ed. 2:

«Well,» said another, «Whoso will, let try.»

XC. In ed. 2:

One spied the little Crescent all were seeking.

XCI. In ed. 2:

And wash my Body whence the Life has died.

XCIII. In ed. 2:

Have done my credit in Men's eye much wrong.

XCV. In ed. 2:

One half so precious as the ware they sell.

XCVII. In ed. 2:

Toward which the fainting Traveller might spring.

XCVIII. In ed. 2:

Oh if the World were but to re-create, That we might catch ere closed the Book of Fate, And make The Writer on a fairer leaf Inscribe our names, or quite obliterate!

XCIX. In ed. 2:

Ah Love! could you and I with Fate conspire.

C. In ed. 2:

But see! The rising Moon of Heav'n again Looks for us, Sweet-heart, through the quivering Plane: How oft hereafter rising will she look Among those leaves--for one of us in vain!