XXXIII.
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ut these between a silver streamlet[56] glides,And scarce a name distinguisheth the brook,Though rival kingdoms press its verdant sides:Here leans the idle shepherd on his crook,And vacant on the rippling waves doth look,That peaceful still 'twixt bitterest foemen flow;For proud each peasant as the noblest duke:Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know'Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low.[6.B.]
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